


Pains

by Jadzibelle



Series: Aches and Pains [2]
Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, M/M, Multi, Pining, TW: suicidal thoughts, alternate season 4, creative reinterpretation of existing mythos, poor communication all around, sequel to aches, tearing down to build back up, this story will not make sense if you don't read aches first, tw: death seeking behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 57,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2840642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadzibelle/pseuds/Jadzibelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Aches.  Nathan and Duke are still searching for Audrey, but finding her will bring its own complications.  With everyone working to achieve their own ends, the question becomes just what will tear them apart first- the Troubles, or each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! So, fair warning- this is not a happy story. This is the messy middle part, and it is going to hurt. I do promise that there will be a happy ending, but it will not happen until the third story, so just be prepared. There will be canonical character deaths as per the middle of season 4, though this will handle things in a slightly different way. I will be diving into the mythology of Haven- there will be a lot of exploring the nature, purpose, and history of the Troubles over this story and the next. Thank you all for bearing with me, here.

**_Six Months Ago_ **

The meteors were falling.

The being called William could feel them; they trembled along the surface of his mind, passed through his sense of self, one more scratch on the wall, one more cycle passing by.  It was time, once again; the low thrum of the Amplifier was picking up, readying for broadcast once again.  Nothing had changed.

He still had time.

Morbid curiosity pulled him to the void-within-void, to the bright blinding gold shell that hung amidst roiling black and simmering grey.  It was as close as he dared to get to Her, until he could find a way to bring her back the name they had stripped away.

But he still had time.  The cycle would go on, as it had.

The shell began to glow, light radiating out.  She had stepped inside, the blaze would grow-

-what.

Black lines, crisp and clear, coiled along the edges of the Amplifier, coiled through it, stretched beyond time and space to form a glyph.  A maze in infinite dimensions.  The Labyrinth painted large over the prison walls.

_No_.

One of _them_ , one of the Wardens, had stepped inside?  That had happened only twice, since the cycle began, and each time, it had been too close, too near to disaster.  Could they possibly have found the way?  If this incarnation had figured it out...

...The glyph faded, and with it, the glow, the Amplifier giving a pulsing hum of confusion.  It didn’t live, but it comprehended its purpose, it understood that there were rules, it didn’t like change.  The Warden had left, but so had she.

William considered.  Maybe he had less time than he thought.  If one of the Wardens had ventured inside, then she might be close to the solution, and he could not allow her to find it, not until he’d found a way to save her.

The Amplifier began to glow again, pure gold, no disconcerting black lines.  No Labyrinth.  William almost relaxed- and then it _shuddered_ , warped, that golden shell _cracking_.  A spark of power arced over the surface, and William recognized the Gatekeeper, unmoored from his physical form.

That was new.  They’d never tried to kill the Gatekeeper, before.

The Amplifier shuddered again, and William felt a chill of fear, much worse than before.  Light was pouring out the cracks, but it wasn’t pure gold any longer.  It was soft and shimmering silver, shot through with black void.

_No_.  No.  NO!

A Warden was bad enough, but _this_?  She couldn’t have, she _couldn’t_ have brought the two sides together.  She couldn’t have found the way!

The Gatekeeper would know.  His physical form may have been destroyed, but that only made it easier for William; with the Gatekeeper in the void, William could _reach_ him.  The Amplifier was twisting, pulling itself apart and falling inward, and the Gatekeeper was skipping over the surface, trying to patch it, trying to repair the damage.

William needed to know what had happened.  Needed to know what they’d found.

A flicker of thought, of power, and he had the Gatekeeper pinned in place, bending his will on the carefully-constructed presence.  The Gatekeeper struggled, unprepared for an attack, unprepared for someone who had been old even when the Gatekeeper was new to seize him.

:Who?: he demanded, the question thought and intention and _will_.

Images greeted him, a flood of information.  Two men, and Her.  Both men were tall, with angular faces and dark hair; one was clean-shaven, one was not, one light eyed, one dark.  She was, as always, perfect- blonde, this time, sweet and sorrowful.  William bore down with his thoughts, focusing on the clean-shaven man.

:Who?: he asked again.

_:Nathan Wuornos.:_  An image of him, standing with an older man, grizzled and formidable.  A man who cracked the earth, who shattered under pressure.  The Gatekeeper knew him, had spoken with him over two cycles.  Garland Wuornos- an ally, but not a Warden.  The son had taken the mark, but was not of the blood.  William relaxed, just slightly; if he was not of the blood, he was not a true threat, just an inconvenience.  Still, he bore watching.

:Who?: he demanded once more, focusing on the dark-eyed man, the one who _should not_ be there.

_:Duke Crocker.:_  There were images there, as well, and clips of memory; Duke standing beside her, Duke standing beside Nathan Wuornos.  A moment in time, the Gatekeeper talking to her, challenging her reliance on Duke; she defended him, fierce and loyal.  Another moment, blurred and broken as the Gatekeeper’s form collapsed- Duke throwing himself forward to catch the other, to cradle him as he fell.  There was a hint of smugness to the Gatekeeper’s thoughts, and a whisper of rage rose up in William.

This Crocker was _weak_ , was _soft_.  William had built that line to be _stronger_ , had layered the corruption deep in their blood.  If he could love her, he could destroy her, and William could not allow that to happen.  Even if the other was not a Warden, there was still a real threat.

William was out of time.  Finding a subtle solution was no longer an option.  He had to wake her, had to return her name, before the Amplifier collapsed completely.  Before there was any chance that those... _inferiors_ could stumble onto the solution.  Before there was any chance that they could take her away from him.

She was _his_.  He would not lose her now.

Releasing the Gatekeeper, he drew himself together, and slipped through one of the cracks.  Physical form wrapped itself around him as he moved, as he searched; he _landed_ , heavy and solid, outside the replica of a cheap bar in Nowhere, USA.  It was time to end this.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Now** _

“Nathan, I need a word.”  Dwight stood in the doorway of Nathan’s office, looking serious.  Nathan frowned, closing the folder on the report he’d just finished, and exchanging a quick glance with Duke, who was only by the loosest definition sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk; he was _sprawled_ in a way that didn’t look comfortable, one leg over one of the chair’s arms, long frame scrunched down so he was leaning against the other.  His relaxed, _bored_ posture had shifted as soon as the door had opened, tension rolling over him in a wave that Nathan could actually see, tiny adjustments, fractional movements, muscles tightening- it was subtle, probably invisible if someone wasn’t looking for it, if someone didn’t know him as well, as intimately, as Nathan did.

He’d braced for an attack, shifted his weight, and prepared to fight, all without leaving his nonchalant position.

It was impressive, if currently unnecessary.

“What can we do for you, Chief?” Nathan asked, leaning back in his chair.  He didn’t actually want to deal with any further difficulties today- the last two days had been rough, and he’d only just wrapped up his carefully-worded report on the localized earthquakes.  He’d been hoping to expand his range on the hospitals and police departments he was checking this afternoon.

“Actually, just you,” Dwight said, and Duke sat up sharply, eyes narrowing.  Nathan gave him another quick glance, indicating without a word that he didn’t want Duke to say anything; Duke’s eyes flicked down in acknowledgement, but the tightness of his jaw gave a very clear time-limit on his acquiescence.

“What about?” Nathan asked, tone carefully neutral.

“A... normal case, actually.  Not a Trouble.  The sort of thing we don’t generally consult civilians about,” Dwight replied, because Dwight was a hell of a lot more perceptive than he chose to appear, sometimes, and he’d obviously picked up on the unspoken dialogue that Nathan and Duke had exchanged.  “Could take a while- Duke, you might want to head home.”

“Yeah, that ain’t happening,” Duke drawled, before Nathan had a chance to say anything.  Nathan appreciated that; it meant he didn’t have to object to that idea himself, didn’t have to acknowledge the hint of panic that still flared up at the thought of Duke being that far out of reach.

“You have a better way to entertain yourself for a few hours?” Dwight asked, looking unimpressed.  “Because I’m serious, I need to talk to Nathan, and you are not invited to this conversation.”

“I’m not _invited_?” Duke replied, expression disbelieving.  “Excuse me?”

“You made it very clear what your stance was on working for this department,” Dwight replied, patiently.  “Remember?  You don’t work for me.  This is official police work.  That means you?  Are not involved.”

“Wait, does this mean that if I asked for an actual job here, you’d hire me?” Duke asked, looking thoughtful, and Nathan cleared his throat, because _no_ , that was not something that needed to happen, and if Duke wasn’t careful, he was going to end up drafted by his own overwhelming sarcasm and inability to let things go.

“No, that is not what it means,” he said, giving Duke a look that plainly conveyed _‘cut it out’_.  “You really think this is going to take a few hours?” he asked, turning his attention back to Dwight.

“Yeah.  It’s about the Wilkes case.”

“...Ah.”  Yeah, that would definitely take a few hours.  “Any particular reason you need to review that?”

“Yep.  Not one we’re discussing in public, though.”

“Do you have to do this here?” Duke asked, and he sounded considering rather than sarcastic.  “Because if it’s not location specific, there’s plenty of room on the Rouge for a private conversation.”

“...No, it doesn’t have to be here,” Dwight replied slowly.  “Is that an offer?”

“Look, I don’t want to be stuck here for the next few hours, and I doubt Jennifer does either.  You have your little meeting on the Rouge, I get to go home.”  Duke shrugged, but Nathan could see the faint hint of discomfort, the faint sense of unease at effectively inviting Dwight over.  “Just saying.  It’s an option that doesn’t involve me being bored and unsupervised in your police station.  And I know you and Jennifer have, ah, dinner plans- and she’ll be more comfortable killing time on the Rouge than here.”

“...Fine.  Thank you.  I’ll pack up what I need, Jennifer and I will meet you there in... half an hour?”

“Works for us,” Nathan agreed.  He preferred that option, himself; for all that they hadn’t had any trouble at the station, the fact that Vince had yet to come up with anything of use in regards to the people who’d broken into his place was still decidedly frustrating, and if he was going to be in a closed-door meeting for a while, he’d be a lot happier about it if he knew Duke was somewhere _safe_.  And there weren’t many places where Duke had more of an advantage than on his boat.

Dwight nodded, and left, closing the door behind him, and Duke let out a sigh and raked his fingers through his hair.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Nathan pointed out, because no matter how much Nathan preferred it, it obviously wasn’t something Duke was really comfortable with.

“Look, I don’t...  Hanging around here, it’s not my favorite thing ever,” Duke replied, frowning.

“Still.  Know how you feel about police on your boat.”

“You’re _living_ on my boat,” Duke pointed out, and he clearly meant it to be sarcastic, but the effect was kind of blunted by the faint trace of a smile that seemed to creep up on him at the words.  Like he was honestly so pleased by the thought that he couldn’t pretend annoyance.

“Slightly different situation,” Nathan countered dryly.  “Unless you need to tell me something.”

“...Wow, thank you for that incredibly traumatizing implication, I did not need that, that is just- _no_.  Wow.  No.”

“Which brings me back to I know how you feel about police on your boat.”

“...I can work with Dwight,” Duke said, finally.  “He’s a soldier, not a cop.”

“And that’s better?”

“It’s different.”

“Not sure I understand how.”

“You’re a cop.  You wouldn’t.”

“Sometime, you’re going to have to explain that to me.”

“Yeah, right, sure, ‘sometime’.  Come on, let’s go home, I have to clean up if we’re going to have company.”

Nathan honestly couldn’t tell how much of that statement was sarcastic.  Still, he stood up, put away his files, and grabbed his coat, and Duke followed him out.

Apparently, there had been less sarcasm in Duke’s comment than he’d imagined; as soon as they made it back to the Rouge, Duke looked around, assessing the space, and started _tidying_.  Admittedly, a good portion of the process seemed to be making sure none of the most egregiously illegal weaponry was visible, but there was a little bit of general cleaning, as well.

“You take downstairs, I’ll play host up in the stateroom,” Duke instructed, rummaging through the kitchen, and Nathan had a moment of vague dislocation, a creeping sense of unease, because this was... easy.  Domestic.  Duke seemed _comfortable_ dividing the space, allocating Nathan room to work- and putting Nathan and Dwight downstairs, in the primary living space, suggested an amount of trust that was honestly still unexpected and a little bit baffling.  And it shouldn’t be easy, it shouldn’t be so simple to adjust to the idea of belonging here, _staying_ here, because he couldn’t.

He couldn’t stay.  And he shouldn’t have started this, shouldn’t have fallen into this, shouldn’t let this continue.

“Okay,” he said, because he shouldn’t, but he would.  He wanted this, wanted it more than he had any right to.  More than he could have imagined was possible.  Too much to let it go.

“...You alright?” Duke asked, and Nathan managed a smile, moved forward to back Duke up against the counter, and it fascinated him, how Duke’s eyes went dark, how his breath caught, how he swayed forward even as he was pushed back.

“Just not looking forward to spending all afternoon reviewing a case from four years ago when I could be doing something more interesting,” Nathan said, and it was a lie, he wasn’t alright, wasn’t anywhere close to alright, but it was easier, to hide a lie behind a truth- particularly when Duke _wanted_ to believe him.  ... _Didn’t_ , Nathan could see that, could see the suspicion and concern under the distraction, but Duke let it slide, leaned in to take a kiss instead of calling him on it, tangled his fingers in Nathan’s shirt and clung.

Nathan lingered in the kiss for a long moment, before he moved closer, wrapped his arms around Duke and held on.  He leaned, rested his forehead on Duke’s shoulder, closing his eyes and just breathing, letting his sense of smell take over.  It was amazing, how comforting that was, how satisfying- it wasn’t, couldn’t, be all that he wanted it to be, but it helped.  It was real, was _present_ , let him ground in the knowledge that Duke was still actually _there_.

Duke made a quiet sound, something that might have been confusion or amusement or encouragement, and Nathan could hear the soft brush of skin over skin, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“You know, I could just go upstairs, lock the door.  We could pretend we aren’t home,” Duke said, after a minute, warmth layered under the humor in his voice, and fuck, but Nathan was tempted.  Was very tempted.  Could pretend, for a few minutes, when they were wrapped up in each other, that everything was fine.  That he still had a life to live, that he still had some value to offer, something besides his last breath.

This was a dangerous crutch, temptation and emotion and he really, really shouldn’t let this continue.  For Duke’s sake, if not his own.

It was probably a little too late to be worrying about the consequences.

“Tempting, but I don’t think I want to have to explain it later,” Nathan replied, looking up so that he could draw his fingers through Duke’s hair, giving a careful tug.  “After, though.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Duke said, with a languorous, dangerous smile, and Nathan felt his resolve waver.

“That a promise?” he asked, and Duke laughed, low and rich.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Good.”  Nathan cupped Duke’s chin in his hand, kissing him, slow and careful, and he was pretty sure he was getting better at managing that, at figuring it out even though he couldn’t feel it.  Duke certainly didn’t seem to have any objections, at least.

A dull sound made Duke pull back, head tilted to the side, listening intently.

“They’re here,” he said, with a sigh, and he pushed Nathan back a step so that he could get around him.  He’d gone tense, shoulders tight and movements sharper, and Nathan almost regretted agreeing to do this here.  He was getting used to seeing Duke _relax_ , was getting used to the degree of comfort he displayed when they were alone on the Rouge, where Duke felt _safe_ , and it bothered him now to see that tension here.  To see Duke’s guard go up in the only place he’d ever really seen it come down.

“I’ll try to get this done quickly,” he said, and Duke gave him a wry smile.

“Yeah, we’ll see.”  Duke headed up the stairs, and Nathan followed, just in case it was anyone other than who it should be.  Duke glanced outside before he opened the door, and the slight shift in his posture was enough to let Nathan know that it _wasn’t_ anyone it shouldn’t be, but Duke still didn’t completely relax, even if the smile he gave Jennifer was clearly genuine.  “Hey, good, I’m glad you decided to come by.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really- I mean, so far, it seems like maybe if I want to do the tourist thing and just wander around, I should make sure that there’s someone, y’know, _with_ me, just in case, and I really didn’t want to spend the afternoon at the apartment, so here I am!  ...Not that I didn’t want to be here, this isn’t, I mean, it’s not just a lack of options, I-”

“It’s nice to see you, too,” Duke interrupted, still smiling, and there was _affection_ there, and Nathan reached out without thinking about it, resting a hand on Duke’s hip, instinctive and possessive.  Duke glanced up at him, a flicker of surprise quickly hidden behind an easy smile, and Nathan crowded a little closer; Duke leaned back, into Nathan’s space, and the swell of defensiveness passed.  Nathan still didn’t let go, his fingers curling around Duke’s hip.  “Where’s Dwight?”

“Oh!  Still down at the car, a call came in over the radio, he’ll be up as soon as he’s handled it,” Jennifer replied, shrugging.

“Anything I should be worried about?” Nathan asked, a little concerned, and Jennifer shook her head.

“I don’t think so, Laverne said something about someone pitching a fit over a stop sign?  It didn’t sound like Trouble stuff, just people stuff.  I’m sure it’ll only take a minute.”

“We’re going to crash up in the stateroom, let Nathan and Dwight use the kitchen space.  I don’t think I’ve given you the tour, yet, have I?” Duke asked, motioning toward the narrow passageway into the upper floor.

“There’s a tour?” Jennifer replied, smiling.  “I must’ve missed that last time, I got the rush version where we were trying to keep the ice cream from melting.”

“Well then.”  Duke took a step forward, ushering Jennifer along in front of him, and Nathan followed along.  “This way leads to the ‘upstairs’- the stateroom, mostly, I use everything else up here for storage.  Which, to be fair, is what I use most of the Rouge for, so it’s not much of a tour.”  Jennifer laughed, but looked around with interest when they reached the stateroom.

“You have a lot of books,” she observed, trailing her fingers along the low counter with its row of drawers, all obviously packed with books.  “You have all those shelves downstairs, too.”

“Yeah, well, you spend months at a time out on the water, with no TV and no internet, it helps to have a good supply of reading material,” Duke replied, shrugging.

“Is- is this in Russian?”

“...Yes.”

“How many languages do you know?”

“Seven,” Duke replied, casually.  “Well.  Seven that I’m comfortable reading.  I can pick my way through basic conversation in about four more, if I have to.”

“Wow,” Jennifer said, sounding impressed, “that’s kind of awesome.”  Honestly, Nathan kind of agreed.  For someone who had grown up in a quaint little town where the schools still struggled to have a rudimentary French or Spanish curriculum, Duke had done a pretty phenomenal job of expanding his reach.  Nathan envied that, envied the years he’d spent everywhere other than here.

He wondered if Duke would leave again, when they’d found Audrey, ended the Troubles.  Could picture it, so easily- too easily.  The two of them putting this place and all the memories it held as far in their wake as they could, Duke making a home for Audrey _here_ , on the Rouge, giving her a chance to live a life unbound by obligation to a bitter and ungrateful town.

The burning, twisting jealousy that thought conjured was somehow a hundred times worse than it had been, a few days before.  He hadn’t thought it could _get_ worse, hadn’t thought he could hate the thought more than he already did.

He’d been wrong.

Duke shifted, checking Nathan with his hip, knocking Nathan off balance, and Nathan blinked, glancing at him in confusion.  Duke didn’t meet his eyes, his expression still casual, his attention still on Jennifer, but he moved just slightly, enough to draw Nathan’s attention down, to where Duke had his fingers wrapped around Nathan’s wrist, knuckles white.  Nathan relaxed the grip he had on Duke’s hip, the grip he hadn’t even realized he’d taken up again, and wondered just how hard he’d been holding on.

Hard enough that Duke had needed him to stop, apparently, and the jealousy was replaced by unease, by doubt and crawling fear, because there was so much risk here.  So much potential to do damage without even realizing he was doing it.  Such a guarantee of doing damage, fully and knowingly.

“Spent a lot of time in other places,” Duke replied, shrugging, still entirely casual, as though nothing was going on outside the conversation.  “It’s helpful, if you want to do business with the kinds of people I’ve done business with.  Helps keep from getting cheated.”

“Does that happen a lot?” Jennifer asked, looking concerned.

“Disreputable people tend to have one thing in common- none of them want to let go of anything they don’t absolutely have to,” Duke said, smiling faintly.  “So yes, yes it does.  Being able to understand when they’re about to pull weapons makes it a lot easier to not be standing where the weapons get pointed.”

“Wow, that- that sounds like a fairly terrible job, actually,” Jennifer said, expression falling into a worried little pout.

“I’ve been trying to convince him of that for years,” Nathan said.  “He won’t listen.”

“You have _not_ ,” Duke replied, sounding offended.  “You’ve been threatening to _arrest_ me for years, that is not the same thing.”

“I dunno, that sounds like it might have been some kind of message,” Jennifer said, and Duke looked betrayed.

“Hey, no, do not take his side here,” Duke started, and Nathan managed a faint smile.

“Just because you were slow to pick up on the point,” he countered, and Duke spun to glare at him, indignant.

“That is _not_ -”

“It is _exactly_ -”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry I brought it up!” Jennifer interrupted, before they could get any louder, and she was laughing at them, one hand over her mouth, eyes dancing.

“You, you are supposed to be on my side,” Duke said, giving her a playful scowl, before he apparently considered, and turned the same look on Nathan.  “Actually, for that matter, so are _you_.”

“Not wanting you killed by petty crooks _is_ being on your side,” Nathan pointed out.

“Hey, I am good at my job, I am perfectly capable-”

“Counterfeiters.  Remember?”

“I handled it!”

“ _You_ handled it?”

“It was _my plan_ ,” Duke exclaimed, indignant.  “You _helped_.”

“I did a little bit more than _help_ ,” Nathan replied.

“You _helped_ ,” Duke repeated, scowling at him.  “It was valuable and necessary help, admittedly, but it was _my plan_ , and it _worked_.”

“Do you always bicker this much?” Jennifer asked, head tilted to the side, and there was something that looked like _understanding_ starting in her gaze.  Which Nathan was only a little conflicted about, honestly- he wasn’t entirely sure how many people he wanted knowing about... whatever this was, but somehow, he preferred that Jennifer know.

“Actually, this is pretty mild,” Duke replied, shrugging.  “Nobody’s bleeding, this is nothing.”

“You’re exaggerating just a bit,” Nathan said, not sure if he was amused or a little ashamed by the reminder of how often their arguments turned physical.  Duke gave him a disbelieving, slightly exasperated look, and okay, maybe immediately disagreeing with Duke’s comment wasn’t doing anything other than confirming that they did, in fact, fight most of the time, which was exactly the point he’d been claiming was erroneous.

“Uh huh,” Duke said, still exasperated.  “Totally.”

“...Fine, maybe not totally.”

“Thank you for that, that’s... very generous.”

“Okay, now you’re just being difficult.”

“You really _do_ ,” Jennifer said, sounding amazed, and Nathan was pretty sure he blushed.  Duke laughed, clearly unconcerned.

“I told you.  Complicated,” he said, with a wry smile.  “It’s habit by now.”

“Not my fault you’re difficult,” Nathan commented, just to watch Duke bristle and Jennifer laugh.  It worked; Duke took the predicted amount of offense to the suggestion that he was at fault, and Jennifer hid another giggle behind her hands.

“I- I am _not_ difficult, you are a pain in the ass, this- no, you do not get to blame me for this.”

“Thought you got to blame whoever you wanted for whatever you wanted,” Nathan countered, barely managing to keep his expression level.  “Works both ways, y’know.”

“You are- _no_ , no, it does not work both ways, I-”

Nathan cut him off by pulling him into a kiss, and Duke _froze_ , went completely still under the contact.

“Stop talking,” Nathan said, when he pulled back, as nonchalant as he could manage, and Duke blinked, confusion and shock and the faintest, most delicate flicker of _hope_ that Nathan had ever seen warring for control of his expression.  That hope was painful to see, a reminder that this _meant_ something, that Duke was _invested_ in this in a way that Nathan couldn’t be.

Because Duke was stubborn, and willful, and saw a future in this, somehow.  A future Nathan couldn’t offer.

But he could offer acknowledgement, recognition.  He could, at the very least, be clear about the fact that Duke was wanted.

It was something that Nathan was pretty sure Duke hadn’t been shown very often.  And however unsure Nathan had been, about... acknowledging this, that hope?  That kinda made the decision for him.  He owed Duke better than pretending this wasn’t _something_.

“...Right,” Duke said, after a few moments too long.  “You can’t actually win every argument that way.  Just so you know.  This one, fine, but- that cannot be a thing.”

“We’ll see,” Nathan replied, with a faint smile, and he wished this wasn’t so damn easy.  It made everything else so much more difficult.

“Yeah, yeah,” Duke said, looking like he was already resigned to losing a good many more arguments that way, and wasn’t all that broken up about it.  “Anyway.  If-”  There was a quiet noise, and Duke paused.  Nathan could see the increase in tension in his shoulders, could see the moment he lost the causal playfulness that had started to come back after Jennifer had arrived.  “Guess Dwight’s done with his call.”

“Right.  I’ll go... handle that, then,” Nathan said, reluctantly.

“Try to sound a little more enthusiastic when you’re actually talking to your boss,” Duke advised, with a smirk.  “Wouldn’t want him to think you didn’t take your work seriously.”

“Yeah, might lead to some questions about the sort of influences I have in my life,” Nathan replied, pointedly, and Duke laughed.

“Hey, I take my work seriously- and I also take _your_ work seriously, and I don’t even get paid for that.  I am a good influence, this is not my fault, and _wow_ , I just said that out loud.”

“I’m going to pretend it didn’t happen,” Nathan replied, because the idea of Duke as a ‘good influence’ on anyone was too surreal to contemplate for long.

“I’d appreciate that,” Duke said, quirking a smile.  “Go, do your meeting so I can have my kitchen back.”

“Right.”  Nathan hesitated, and Duke raised an eyebrow, and flashed a smile that had more insistence than amusement in it.

“Now, please, _before_ Dwight has a chance to wander around unattended.  I’m counting on you, here.”

“...Right.”  Strange as that concept was.  Nathan leaned in and stole another quick kiss, and this time Duke didn’t freeze, kissed back like it was normal and easy and comfortable before he gave Nathan a very pointed shove in the direction of the door.  Nathan went, headed back up the hall, and as he did, he heard Jennifer ask, quiet and concerned, “What’s wrong with Dwight being here?”

“Nothing, Nate’ll keep him out of trouble,” Duke replied, and Nathan kind of wished he didn’t sound so certain.

Dwight was leaning in the doorway, a thick file tucked under one arm, expression pensive and full of wry frustration.

“You know, some days I’m surprised you made it as long as you did before you ditched this job,” he observed, when Nathan motioned him inside.

“Anything important?” Nathan asked, entirely too familiar with the frustrations of Dwight’s position.

“No.  Someone ran the stop at the corner of Main and Willow, and now Mr. Montmacy from the deli is insisting that we need a stoplight there.  I had to explain, through Rebeccah, that having a stoplight won’t actually keep people from ignoring the ‘stop’ signal any more than a stop sign will.”  Dwight sighed, and pushed his fingers through his hair.  “I swear, dealing with the Troubles is the least obnoxious part of this job.”

“I know,” Nathan said, guiding Dwight down the stairs and into the sitting area.  “At least with a Trouble, you know why it matters.  The small-town cop stuff, it can be hard not to just want to tell everyone to shove off sometimes.”

“Was it always like this?  Were people always this... petty?”

“Yep.  My dad used to come home railing about people thinking parking tickets were the worst thing that could happen to them, making an issue out of every little thing, when there were _real_ problems out there,” Nathan replied, and the memory brought a pang of loss with it.  He wished his father had taken the time to _tell_ him things, to give him more to work with than he had.  Wished he’d bothered to ask, when he’d had the chance.

Wondered if he’d have made the same decisions, if his father had still been there to be disappointed in him.

“And you accepted this job _twice_?” Dwight asked, wryly.

“Somebody had to do it.  Figured I was the best choice.  ...Obviously, that wasn’t so much the case.”

“Still not sure about that, myself,” Dwight replied, and Nathan didn’t really know what to do with that.  He’d been a disaster as the Chief, had made all the wrong decisions for the town.  He was supposed to protect Haven, and he’d left it in shambles.

“I am.  Wouldn’t have taken the badge back at all, if I could have helped it, I don’t deserve to have it.”

“That’s not true.  I know I came at you pretty hard the other day, but you’re a good cop, Nathan, and you do care about this place.”

“Not enough,” Nathan said, and Dwight sighed, shook his head.

“Look, Nathan.  Everybody screws up, particularly when there are emotions involved.  Not sure I would have done any different, if I’d been in your shoes.  This place, this task, it asks a lot, and it doesn’t give much back.”

“You’re right about that.  And I’m sorry you have to clean it up.  Know you’ve been doing that for a long while now.”

“Just...  Do what you can, now.  That’s all anyone is doing.”  Dwight looked _tired_ , for a moment, weary and weighed down, and Nathan knew just how heavy that burden was.  Was glad it wasn’t his any longer- Nathan, after all, had only two tasks left to do.  He knew his role, knew where it ended.  Dwight had to keep carrying on.

Dwight’s job was a lot harder than Nathan’s.

“You wanted to talk about the Wilkes case?” Nathan prompted, wanting to get away from the subject at hand, and wanting to get this meeting over with.

“Yes, I did.  One thing, first.”  Dwight paused, looking uneasy, like he didn’t really want to say whatever it was he felt he needed to say, and Nathan had a sudden, crawling suspicion that Duke not being in on this meeting had less to do with official police business, and more to do with whatever Dwight was so uncomfortable over.  “If it comes down to it, can you keep Duke in line?”

“Nobody keeps Duke in line,” Nathan replied, not pleased with having his suspicion confirmed.  “Duke does what he wants, always has.”

“That man would burn this town to the ground if you asked him to, Nathan, don’t play coy,” Dwight replied, sighing.

“What, exactly, are you asking me, Dwight?” Nathan replied, defensive, a note of threat entering his voice.  “You asking if I think he’s dangerous?”

“No.  I know he’s dangerous.  You know he’s dangerous.  Hell, _he_ knows he’s dangerous.  I need to know if you can control him.”

“Nobody _controls_ him, Dwight, what the hell is this about?  He’s not a goddamn pet dog- I thought you two talked, anyway.  He seems to think you two came to some sort of terms, what the hell are you coming to me for?”

“We reached... an understanding,” Dwight said carefully, and Nathan clenched his hands into fists, everything about that statement putting him on edge.  Particularly given that Duke had been annoyingly _cooperative_ about things, about going to the station, working cases, being _responsible_ \- Nathan had started to flinch every time Duke went along with someone else’s instructions, and he wasn’t sure if it was because it was so unlike Duke’s usual manner, or if it was simply because he resented the hell out of anyone else having influence over Duke.  Which was decidedly unhealthy, and he knew it, but he was still pretty sure it was a factor.  “Part of that understanding was an acknowledgement that we are working at cross-purposes, and I need to know if you are going to be able to keep him out of the way when you’ve found Audrey.”

“Duke will do the right thing,” Nathan said, voice thick and strained.  “He won’t like it, but he’ll do it.  He did before.”

“You sure about that?” Dwight asked, and Nathan _wasn’t_.  The weight of the promise Duke had asked for, the lie Nathan had told, hung heavy, a reminder that it wasn’t that simple.  Nathan wasn’t sure that Duke would stand back and watch, this time, the way he had when Audrey had walked away from them.  Wasn’t sure Duke would respect his decision, the way he’d claimed he’d been willing to accept Audrey’s.

“Duke will do the right thing,” Nathan repeated, forcing his voice to be confident.  “He always does, in the end.”

“That’s not the tune you were singing before he disappeared,” Dwight said, and there was no rebuke in his exhausted tone, but Nathan flinched anyway.

“I was wrong.”

“Were you?  Or are you seeing what you want to see, now?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you lost him, and now he’s back, and you turn into a shaky, defensive wreck when he’s out of your sight for five minutes, and I’m not sure you’re thinking clearly now that you two are involved.”

“I- you-” Nathan sputtered, caught off-guard, and Dwight gave him a look thick with derision.

“You aren’t subtle, Nathan, you need to give that idea up.  Also possibly consider not leaving hickeys where they are blatantly visible if you don’t want the whole town to know inside a week.  And I don’t really care, it’s not my business, except where it comes to your ability to do your job, and my ability to keep this town intact.”

“My ability to do my job?” Nathan asked, eyes narrowing, connections forming in his mind.  “Are you asking me if I _can_ keep Duke in line, or if I _intend_ to keep Duke in line?”

“Both,” Dwight said, blunt and to the point.  “Because I can tell you right now, if Vince even _thinks_ that you’re a flight risk, or that Duke will get in the way?  This whole arrangement falls apart.  And if that happens, there will be nothing I can do to keep either of you safe.”

“This have to do with Vince not giving you any names?”

“I know Vince, Nathan.  I used to work for him.  I know what he’s capable of.  If he wanted us to have those names, we’d have them.  Keeping them to himself keeps you and Duke on the defensive, keeps you jumping at shadows- and it makes it harder for me to protect my assets.  It’s a power play, it’s designed to keep us off balance.”

“Why?  Why the games, why-”

“Because he doesn’t trust any of us,” Dwight replied flatly.  “And he may be making noise about cooperation, right now, but he’s looking for any edge he can get.  Right now?  Keeping you two spooked is an edge, and I’m not pushing, because if he loses that, then he might fall back on a more direct option- and neither of you has been particularly discreet about your emotional investments, here.”

The threat sent a chill wash of fear through Nathan, something almost tangible.  Vince couldn’t risk hurting Nathan, directly- if he felt he needed to jerk the leash, he’d have to go through someone else.

“You think he’d take the risk of that backfiring on him, if he starts to get twitchy?”

“I think he’d be perfectly happy to have both Crockers in the ground right now, so yeah, I don’t see it being a stretch.”

“If he touches Wade, Duke _will_ burn this town to the ground,” Nathan said, and there was no doubt in his mind that that was true.  However much they were still fighting, still squabbling every time they saw each other- which Nathan felt a little bad about, since it was his fault- Nathan knew that Duke cared about his brother, that there was love and gratitude and protectiveness there.

“I don’t doubt that.  But that’s really less what I’m worried about.”

“You’re worried about what will happen if he goes after Duke.”

“Yes.”

“You think I’m a threat?”

“I think you’re someone who’s been pushed too far, too many times.”

“You’re right.”  Nathan could hear his pulse racing in his ears, could see a tremor in his hands.  Rage, fear, he couldn’t tell, couldn’t separate them out in his mind.  “Anyone touches him, they’re going to have a very serious problem.”

Dwight laughed, low and tired, and Nathan blinked, jarred by the unexpectedness of that response.

“That’s funny?” he asked, tone sharp, and Dwight shook his head.

“Only because he said the same thing to me about you,” Dwight replied.  “You two are more alike than I thought.”

“We used to be,” Nathan said, with a faint pang of loss.  “I used to be able to keep up with him.  He’d be the first to tell you I’ve changed.”

“Maybe not as much as either of you thinks,” Dwight said.  “And I’m not sure if that’s for the best or not.”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Nathan replied, with a bitter smile.  “One way or another.”

“Guess so.”  Dwight sighed again, heavy and tired.  “You know I don’t like anything about this?”

“Didn’t figure you did,” Nathan replied, frowning, a little confused by the comment.

“I mean it.  I don’t much care for the idea of letting you get yourself killed.”

“It’s the best option we have.”

“I know that.  Doesn’t mean I like it any.  And I don’t like how much collateral it’s likely to have, either.”

“Whole point is to avoid any more collateral,” Nathan pointed out, voice tight.

“Right.”  Dwight sounded disbelieving, had the same tone of casual disdain that Duke did, any time the subject came up.  Like it was completely unbelievable, completely unrealistic, to think there was a chance that this would work without any other losses.  Nathan didn’t like it any better coming from Dwight.  “So about the Wilkes case.”

Nathan sighed, and leaned forward as Dwight spread the file out on the counter.  He needed to calm down, to focus.  He had work to do.  He could worry about everything else later.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, folks, this chapter is huge, and kinda heavy. But I hope you will enjoy copious amounts of back story!

Duke was pleasantly buzzed, sprawled out on the floor of the stateroom on a pile of cushions, wineglass hanging carelessly from his fingertips.  Next to him, Jennifer was curled up, a tight little ball of warmth and giggles, her wineglass abandoned to the side.  She was cuddled up against his side, and he was absently running his fingers through her hair, and he wondered if this was what having siblings would have been like, if he’d grown up in an environment that was, y’know, healthy.  

He wasn’t sure, but he thought it might be, and he was pretty content to proclaim Jennifer the sister he’d never had and never known he’d wanted, particularly if she kept giggling like she was.  He hadn’t been this comfortable just _being_ with someone, relaxing in their company, in a long time- it wasn’t like spending time with Nathan, or Audrey.  They were friends, yes, but there were layers there, expectation and flirtation and history and suspicion and desire that he didn’t have with Jennifer.  This was... simple, somehow.

It was nice.

“I don’t believe you,” she said, finally, and Duke smiled, broad and teasing.

“Probably wise, as a general plan of action, but I swear it’s the truth,” he said, stretching and nearly dropping his wineglass, and yeah, he’d probably had enough, he was mellow and relaxed and not dwelling on the fact that Nathan was in a closed-door meeting with Dwight that he had explicitly not been invited to attend, despite the fact that it was happening _on his boat_.  Though he did appreciate Dwight agreeing to have said meeting on the Rouge, so that Duke didn’t have to spend hours sitting in the hall outside Dwight’s office waiting for Nate to be done.  It was a small kindness, and Duke was starting to almost get used to that idea.

His friendships were a little odd, now that he thought about it.  Or maybe it was just odd what he classed as friendship, at this point in his life.  Lack of openly wanting him dead and basic consideration for his needs was probably a pretty low bar, as far as standards of friendship went.  Eh.  Still, better than the alternative.  “And that is why I cannot go back to Callao.”

“Okay, enough ridiculous lies about your unbelievable adventures in far off places,” Jennifer said, shifting so that she could look up at him.  “I want to know about this place, about...  About the people here.  Tell me about you and Nathan.”

“Oh, that is a complicated subject,” Duke said, a hint of warning in his voice.  “And probably not what you want to hear.  The travelling stories are _way_ more fun.”

“No, I do,” she insisted, wriggling around so she could watch him without having to strain.  “If our boyfriends are going to spend hours talking without us, I want gossip.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Duke replied automatically, because that was not a word he was comfortable with, was not a word he wanted applied to Nathan or to him, and it wasn’t... accurate, really.  “And you’ve known Dwight for a week.”

“And we’ve been on four dates, I am confident in my declaration,” Jennifer replied, and Duke blinked at her.

“Four dates?  Seriously?  How do you figure?” Duke asked, because that number seemed very high, given how much of the week Jennifer had been in town had involved Dwight working, or Jennifer being towed around by Duke and Nathan.

“I’m counting every time we were mostly alone for two or more hours, and he drove me home after, or he paid for a meal for me,” Jennifer said firmly.  “Which technically means six dates, but I’m not counting the night you got shot or the lockdown at the police station yesterday.”

“...Wow,” Duke said, finally.  “Okay, I accept your premise, you have a boyfriend.  Good for you, seriously, that’s- I’m actually impressed.  You’ll be a regular local in no time.  I, however, do not.”

“But you’re together.”

“...Not exactly.  We’re...  It’s complicated, but I don’t think he’d call it that.”  And honestly, Duke was still a little shocked that Nathan had been willing to let _anyone_ know that things had... changed.  He’d been completely floored when Nathan had kissed him where Jennifer could _see_ , as though it wasn’t something Nathan was going to want to hide.

“Fine, then, tell me about your lover who you’re not in a formal relationship with but you are totally, ridiculously, _blatantly_ into,” Jennifer countered, and Duke sighed, because she seemed determined and he was too tipsy to fight over it.

“Why the sudden interest?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“Because when I first... heard things, this is not what I expected,” she said, frowning slightly.

“I told you the relationship was complicated,” Duke replied, shrugging in turn.  “But fine, what do you want to know?”

“How did you two meet?”

“I told you that,” Duke replied, pretty sure this had come up once before.  “Didn’t I?  We’ve known each other since kindergarten.”

“And you were friends?”

“...No,” Duke replied, a hint of caution entering his voice.  “No, not for a while.  I mean, we knew each other, but Nathan didn’t... have friends, exactly.  He kept to himself, he was shy.  I had Jeff and Bill, and Ian followed me around like a puppy, and- anyway.  Not the point.  Point is, no, we didn’t really- we weren’t friends for a few years, actually.  Almost weren’t at all.”  Duke reached for the wine bottle, and topped off his glass, because if they were going to have _this_ conversation, he needed more wine.  Actually, for this conversation, he’d be better off with something a hell of a lot stronger than wine, but the scotch was downstairs.

“What happened?” Jennifer asked, and Duke took a drink, and gave her a serious look.

“You sure you want to hear all of this?  It’s... some of it is complicated, a lot of it is depressing, it’s not a fun feel-good kinda story.”  Because nothing about his life had been fun or feel-good, even if Nathan had been the best part of it for years.

“Yes,” she said, doggedly determined, and Duke shrugged.

“Okay.  We weren’t friends until after my dad died.  He kicked it when I was eight.”  Duke took another drink.  “Eight was a big year for me.  It was... the Troubles _really_ kicked in, that year, the way they are now.  They... they kinda trickle, for a while, and then they snowball.  Nathan and I... we started that year.  Sort of.  Christmas break, it’d snowed...  Wade was visiting.  That was the last time he did.  We went out, went to one of the good hills, and it was crowded, there were all kinds of kids around.  Even Nathan was there, having a good time.

“Until he crashed his sled, at the bottom of the hill.  I mean, nobody knew it was a problem yet, but...  When he came back up the hill...  He’d broken his arm.  Really broken it, bone sticking out, blood everywhere.  But he didn’t know.  He couldn’t feel it.  There was panic, seriously, girls were screaming, Wade threw up, everyone was falling apart.  And Nathan was just... standing there, looking confused, poking at it...  He looked lost.  Really lost.  But he was tough, he wasn’t crying or screaming, and I...”  Duke laughed, and took another drink.

“I was impressed.  I thought, he’s _tough_ , he’s _brave_.  So after a minute, when it was pretty clear nobody knew what to do, I made him sit down in his sled and hold his arm up so that the bleeding would slow down, and I pulled him back down the hill, and into town.”  Duke, after all, had already had a decent amount of experience dealing with broken bones and blood, it hadn’t really unnerved him the way it had most everyone else.  “I pulled him as far as I could in the sled, but the sidewalks in town were pretty clear, so I ended up carrying him the rest of the way, because he was pretty out of it by then, the cold and the shock and he’d been bleeding for a while.  He was a friggin’ _mess_.  So I carried him to the hospital, and the doctors took him away, and told me to leave, and I did.  I went back out, walked back to the hill, and went back to sledding.”  He remembered, vaguely, that he’d argued with the nurse who’d made him leave.  He’d been angry that he wasn’t allowed to be there, because he wasn’t family, and never mind that Nathan was all alone.  But they’d threatened to call his dad, and Duke hadn’t wanted that, had known how much trouble he’d be in if his dad had to come get him, so he’d left.

“When I got home, later, my dad saw the blood on my jacket, asked me what had happened.  I told him.  I thought...”  Duke laughed again, bitter.  “I thought maybe he’d be proud of me.”  For helping, for doing the right thing.  Duke smiled, and he knew it wasn’t a nice expression, knew it before he saw Jennifer’s expression fall in response.  “Yeah, that... that was my mistake.”  He reached up, absently running his fingers over a small scar, nearly hidden under his hair.  “He hit me so hard, I hit the wall and bounced.  Needed four stitches.  And when _that_ was over, he told me, if I ever hung around with ‘that Wuornos kid’ again, he’d whip me ‘til I couldn’t sit down for a week.  That he was a bad job from a bad family, that there were _lines_ in this town that we didn’t cross.”

“What- what did he mean?” Jennifer asked, and Duke appreciated that she didn’t apologize, didn’t try to offer sympathy or outrage over his fucked up childhood.  Apologies and sympathy didn’t change anything, after all, and he didn’t want anyone’s pity.

“Let’s just say that traditionally, my family has come down on the wrong side of this little war our town has going on.  Anyway.  I took him at his word, but Nate...  After we came back to school, after the break, he tried to be friendly.  Thought he owed me, maybe, or just... just figured it meant something, that I’d helped him.  And it did, I mean, it was stupid, but...  I _wanted_ to be his friend.  But I was scared, y’know?  My dad made a lot of promises he didn’t keep, but he was usually pretty reliable when it came to the ones that hurt.  So I...  I got mean.  I didn’t know what else to do.  I thought if I could just...”  Duke trailed off, because he’d been a kid, and he’d been scared, but he’d also been an _incredible_ jackass, he’d put Nathan through hell for a few months, there.

“You thought if you could make him hate you, if _he_ didn’t want to be friends with _you_ , you wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore?” Jennifer asked, and she sounded like she understood.  Like she could make sense of the ridiculous non-logic of a scared eight year old.  He went back to stroking her hair, because it was nice, having somebody understand.

“Yeah, pretty much.  And then...  Then Lucy showed up.”  When he’d been a kid, Lucy had been... awe inspiring.  She’d been beautiful and tough as nails, with a cynical sense of humor and no patience for anybody’s bullshit- but she’d been immensely, improbably kind, despite that.  “She ended up at the school a few times, with Nathan’s old man, investigating this or that.  And it wasn’t her job, it wasn’t anything to do with her, but she’d pay attention, y’know?  She’d notice the kids.”  And she’d known Duke’s name, had looked at him like she could see right down to his soul.  He knew, now, that she had to have known who his father was, _what_ his father was...  And that she must’ve, therefore, known what _Duke_ was supposed to become one day- which made the fact that she’d still reached out to him all the more amazing.

“After she showed up, things got bad.  My dad, he- he got worse and worse.  I didn’t know why, at the time.  But he got worse, and then, he died.”  Duke drained his glass, the chill of that memory still strong.  The storm, the shadows, things he couldn’t understand- and his father, dragging a promise out of him, making him _swear_ , before he slipped overboard and never came back.

Duke sometimes thought that half the reason he loved the water was because it had taken his father away, and for all the hell he’d gone through after, at least it was a different kind.

Even if it was all a lie, even if his father had faked his death for the sake of his mission, only to wind up ‘washed up’ on shore not long after, dead anyway.

“Lucy started keeping an eye out for me, after that.  She’d come around the school, just to check up on me.  Can’t say I didn’t like the attention.  She gave me something, after the Colorado Kid died...  A necklace, a pendant that she used to wear.  Told me she trusted me to hold on to it for her, that it was important I keep it.”  And Duke had, even when he’d been desperate, even when he hadn’t been able to buy groceries for weeks at a time.  He’d never been able to bring himself to part with it.

Until he’d given it to Audrey, returned it to the woman who was and was not Lucy, when he still thought she might be Lucy’s daughter.  He tried not to dwell on that, tried not to linger overlong on the idea that one of his best friends, the woman he loved, was on some level the same woman who’d held his hand at his father’s funeral, who’d brushed his hair out of his eyes and the tears from his cheeks.  The woman who had been more of a mother to him in a month than his actual mother had been in a lifetime.

He tried not to dwell on the fact that Audrey being Audrey meant that Lucy was dead, and he’d never gotten to thank her.

“And she told me, she said, one day I was going to need friends.  Good ones, friends that would help me find the right path.  That I should think about that, that I should trust my gut and not what anyone else told me.  She disappeared, not long after, and the Troubles just... stopped.  And everything went back to normal.  And I was lonely and angry and miserable, and I thought, fuck it.  My dad was gone, he couldn’t tell me what to do anymore.”  And he’d been too young, at the time, to put words to the sense of freedom, of liberation, he’d felt, but he’d felt them all the same.  “So the next time somebody was giving Nathan trouble, I punched them.”

“And that worked?” Jennifer asked, with a curious smile, as Duke poured himself another glass of wine.  “He forgave you?’

“ _Hell_ no.  Nathan didn’t trust me for the better part of a year, he kept waiting for the punchline.  I had... done a pretty good job of making him hate me.  He didn’t believe I was serious about being on his side until...  Fuck, I think it was the thing with Mark Wills.  Mark was popular, had a lot of friends, and I’d made Nate a target for the sort of shit they pulled, I’d... put him on the bully radar, for lack of a better way to put it.  But they went after him... maybe a week into summer break?  At the park.  I tried to make Mark back off, he didn’t want to, we got into a fight, his friends piled on, I got my ass kicked.  Amazingly kicked, seriously, it was a _mess_.  And I mean, there were like, eight of them, so, y’know, I did okay, given the odds, but yeah, I lost that fight pretty spectacularly, and I guess Nathan figured that I might be an asshole, but I probably wasn’t willing to get beat to shit just so I could fuck with him.”  Duke laughed, and it was better, less bitter, because that part of the story, he didn’t mind so much.  “He still hasn’t _forgiven_ me, though.  Man can hold a grudge.”

“I don’t believe that,” Jennifer said firmly.

“What, that he can hold a grudge?  Seriously, you have no idea, he-”

“No, that he hasn’t forgiven you.”

“Yeah, you remember that the next time he brings up some stunt or another I pulled back then.  You’ll see,” Duke replied, chuckling.  “But anyway.  That’s what happened, that’s... me and Nate.  How we started.”

“So what happened?” Jennifer asked, tilting her head.  “Because something did, you say things, you act like...”

“Like we hate each other?” Duke asked, raising his glass in a vague effort to salute her with it, which didn’t work so well when they were both pretty much lying down.

“No.  No, I don’t think anyone could make _that_ mistake.  But you act like you have some issues.”

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it,” Duke said, smiling and taking a drink.  “We have some... issues.”

“So what happened?” Jennifer asked again, and Duke sighed.

“We grew up.  He got the ‘that boy’s trouble, lines we don’t cross’ speech from _his_ dad when we were sixteen, ignored it for a few years, went off to school, came back...  God, we raised hell together for a long time.  He’s _smart_ , you know, he kinda hides behind this folksy small town cop thing now, but he’s- he’s _usually_ \- so damn fast, so sharp.  And he didn’t have this stick up his ass when we were teenagers, he’d play lookout when I was doing something that would have gotten us both arrested, he’d help me steal booze or cigarettes or whatever else the caper of the week was, we’d sneak off on weekends and get blind drunk and do stupid shit.  Hell, he _designed_ a few of the cons I used- one of his tricks saved my life, in Morocco.”

Duke _missed_ that Nathan, missed him fiercely and with a longing he didn’t think would ever fade away.  Reckless, fierce, brilliant and totally unconcerned with what anyone else wanted when he was fixed on a goal- Duke had seen a shade of him, on the hill outside the Barn, in the man who’d pointed a gun at an avatar of the unknown, stared it down for the love of a woman and to hell with the consequences.  He’d seen, for just a moment, the same boy he’d fallen so hard for, when he was a kid.

“That... doesn’t sound like issues,” Jennifer said, and she was right, because Duke would rather reminisce about how good things had been, than how bad they’d gotten.  He didn’t exactly enjoy revisiting how his whole damn world had come apart on him.

“I got him his first real job, y’know.  When he was in school.  D’you know, the first year he left, he was _determined_ to be a doctor?  He was dead set on it.  He never told me what happened, why he changed his mind.  He just came home that summer, and said he wasn’t gonna be a doctor, and that was that.  But he needed a job, and I helped him get one, I knew a guy at the harbor who could get him some work- real work, not my kind of work- and he spent that summer doing construction.  Hot as hell, by the way, he... he can manage the toolbelt thing, it is a good look on him.  And things were still good, y’know?  I worried, when he left, that it was gonna make everything different, but he came back and it was exactly the same, everything still... fit.”

“So it wasn’t college, that changed things,” Jennifer said, frowning and retrieving her wineglass.

“No.  Things were good, still.  It was... a couple years later.  He’d been working odd jobs here and there, doing whatever.  I was starting to do more, ah, delivery work, and...  I enjoyed it.  I like the water, I like to travel, I don’t mind heavy lifting.  I mean, there are risks, there’s always risks, but...  I enjoyed what I did.  But Nathan, he was restless, couldn’t find anything that made him feel useful, I guess.  He wanted a purpose.  Man wanted to be a doctor, after all, wanted to save lives.  And he was working construction, mostly, sometimes working down at the docks, working the warehouses, it wasn’t...  He wasn’t happy.”  Duke looked down at his wine, expression twisting, and he could see his frustration and disappointment reflected back from the rich red surface.

“And then, one week, he calls me up on a Tuesday night, and he is roaring drunk.  And that’s not so standard, but he invites me over to his dad’s place.  His old man’s out of town for the week for some official police powwow or whatever, and Nate’s watching the place for him.  So I figure there’s no harm in it, I’m not gonna get shot for setting foot on the property, and Nate’s drunk on a Tuesday, it’s gotta be important.  So I go over, and we drink some more, and we talk, and Nate’s talking about all the trouble we used to get into, all the risks we used to take.  The fun we used to have.  And I’m sitting there, thinking that maybe he’s _finally_ gotten tired of this fucking town, that maybe, _maybe_ I can finally convince him to start taking runs with me, that I can finally convince him that we don’t have to _stay here_.  And I’m about to tell him, he doesn’t have to stay, we could go anywhere he wanted to go, that I’ve still got some stupid list we put together back in junior year of all the places we were gonna see.  That all he has to do is say the word, and we’re out of here.  And he looks at me, and says, his dad’s right, his dad’s always been right.  That he was stupid to argue about it.  That he’s going to the academy, in Bangor, he’s going to be a cop.”

The surface of the wine rippled, and Duke tightened his grip on the glass to disguise how his hands were shaking.  Even all this time later, the sense of _betrayal_ was still sharp, could still rile him up, could still leave him wanting to _run_.  To cast off and take the Rouge and head for open water.

“I begged him not to.  Literally.  I begged.  Told him to come with me, instead, we’d travel, see the world, do all the things we’d talked about when we were fifteen and stupid and hopeful.  He said it was already a done deal, he started on Monday.  We argued, he passed out on the couch, I made up the guest room, and when I got up in the morning, he’d already left for work.  I put in enough supplies on the Rouge for six months- spent every damn penny I had on it- and left town Friday morning, headed south.  Didn’t actually plan on ever setting foot in this fucking town again.”

“Why?” Jennifer asked, brow furrowed, and she didn’t understand, of course she didn’t.  How could she?  Duke spent all of his damn time with cops, now, walked into the police station every day of his own free will, was all but in service to the damn department.  Nathan was a cop, Audrey was a cop, Dwight was a cop- the only person she ever saw him with who _wasn’t_ a cop was _Wade_ , for chrissake, and wasn’t _that_ a sad commentary on his life.

She couldn’t possibly understand how much Duke had hated them.  All of them.  How much he couldn’t _stand_ the idea of watching Nathan become one of them.  How much of a struggle it still was, even after months with Nathan and Audrey, even when he was working with Dwight, to keep his opinions behind his teeth where they belonged.

“I couldn’t stay.  I couldn’t stick around and watch Nathan turn into his father.”  Duke emptied his glass, and refilled it once more, and they _definitely_ needed more wine, there was another bottle somewhere.  “You don’t- it’s...  I knew.  I knew that once he started down that path, that there wouldn’t be any room for me.  And I didn’t want to watch it happen.”  Because Duke was a smuggler, a thief, a liar, a con man.  Was a man who did whatever it took to survive, to see to it that he came out ahead.

And he’d known that if he stayed, sooner or later, Nathan was going to have to make a choice, and Duke knew that when it happened, Nathan wouldn’t choose him.

Cops never chose people like him.  He’d known that since he was eight, had known it since he’d been left with a mother who didn’t give two shits about him so long as she could collect a check.  Had been reminded every time he had to scramble and scrounge and steal to keep himself fed, while everyone in town pretended not to notice that he bought his own damn groceries, that he brought envelopes full of cash to wherever there were bills due, that his clothes were worn to nothing more often than not.  Pretended not to notice that he didn’t have a home- and, as he got older, made it increasingly clear that he wasn’t welcome in _their_ homes.  Cops didn’t help people like him, didn’t choose people like him, and Duke couldn’t bear watching Nathan turn out like that.

So he’d run.  He’d run, and he’d spent a few months with Wade, because Wade had always tried, had sent Duke money when he could, birthday cards stuffed full with three months’ allowance, Christmas packages in the mail full of tangerines and canned pineapple and more cash, and Duke had needed somewhere to be.  Someone to listen to him ramble, drunk and miserable, about how he’d lost everything, about how pissed he was, about how he wasn’t even pissed, he was _lost_ , because he had no idea how to stand alone, after a decade and some of standing _with_ someone.  And really, he supposed he couldn’t blame Wade now for assuming the worst.  For remembering how utterly fucked up he’d been, and how often Nathan’s name had come up in those discussions.

He probably owed Wade an apology or two, actually, considering what he’d put him through lately.  Considering that Wade _had_ always tried, the best he could, that he was sticking around now because he was _still_ trying, despite Duke’s best efforts to drive him away.

“So you left, and he stayed.”  Jennifer frowned at her glass, and Duke wanted to tell her that that wasn’t the half of it, that it wasn’t that simple, but on some level, it was.  Nathan had chosen to stay, and Duke had chosen to leave, and nothing had ever been right between them again, not the way it had been when they were younger.

“Pretty much,” he said, shrugging.  “Not exactly a fun story.  I told you you probably didn’t want to hear it.”

“Why’d you come back?” Jennifer asked, tilting her head.  “If it was like that, why did you come back here?”

“...My father made me swear, before he died, he made me swear that if the Troubles ever came back, that wherever I was, whatever I was doing, I would come back to Haven.”  Duke stared at his wine, _really_ wishing it was something stronger.  “I got a message from an old contact, that weird shit was happening on the home front, and I...  I knew, I guess.  I knew what it had to mean.  And I ignored it for three months, because fuck it, I didn’t owe my father anything, but...”  He drank, and took a deep breath, sorting through things he’d never talked about, never shared.  Hadn’t told Evi, because he hadn’t trusted her, hadn’t told Audrey, because she didn’t need his burdens when she had so many of her own.  “I remembered.  Last time.  And I thought...  I thought if it was all happening again, I didn’t...  I didn’t want Nathan to have to deal with it alone.”  He wondered, sometimes, what would have happened if he’d told Evi the truth.  If when she’d accused him of staying because of Audrey, he’d told her that it was Nathan he was staying for, that it had always been Nathan and would always be Nathan.

He wondered what the Rev would have made of _that_ , whether he would have realized he couldn’t win Duke so long as he was at cross-purposes with Nathan.  Whether he would have tried something more subtle, or whether he would have given up.

Whether he would have gotten more direct about trying to get rid of Nathan.  He’d gotten him demoted, after all, and that was without knowing that the game piece he wanted to control so badly was firmly in Nathan’s corner.  Evi had said that the Rev believed Nathan would be a problem for him.  If he’d known the truth, if he’d known even a fraction of what Nathan meant to Duke...

It was probably for the best that Duke had lied to Evi.

“You were worried about him.”

“He might have been better off if I hadn’t come back,” Duke said, bitterness lacing the words.  “He was fine, until I came back.  And things were... things were bad, between us.  I didn’t know why, I didn’t understand, and I did pretty much everything possible to make things worse, and I didn’t know it.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s glad you’re here now,” Jennifer said softly, putting her hand on his knee and patting him.

“I keep wondering...  If I hadn’t come back.  Would he have had as much trouble?”  Duke wasn’t sure, and he hated that thought.  Hated that it was possible that his presence had pushed Nathan back into his shell, had made him isolate himself.  That maybe if Duke hadn’t come back, Nathan would have had friends and support and wouldn’t have been so desperate and angry and reckless, when Audrey had to leave.

“Or maybe it would have been worse.  You don’t know.  He leans on you, and from what I’ve heard?  That’s not just since you got back out of the Barn.  Maybe having you there to lean on let him do things he wouldn’t have been able to do without you.”

“Yeah, maybe.”  Duke didn’t exactly believe it, but there was no point in arguing might have beens.  “So, on a more cheerful topic, your turn.  You gotta tell me, why Dwight?”  Jennifer blushed bright pink, and quickly took a drink, hiding her face behind her wineglass, and Duke flashed her a teasing smile, trying desperately to shake the melancholy that talking about the past had stirred.  Trying to get out from under the weight of his memories and his mistakes.  “Come on, fair’s fair, you made me talk.  Spill.”

“I just...  He’s sweet, you know?” Jennifer replied, still blushing.  “He’s sweet, and he’s funny, and he _cares_ , it’s...  Sometimes when we’re talking, he says things, and I can see how tired he is, but he still _cares_.  He shows up and he tries to help, and when he can’t, it hurts him, and I don’t know, I just... haven’t met a lot of people who can feel like that, and keep doing it, when so often they can’t do anything.”  Jennifer paused, and Duke started to take a drink, and her smile turned wicked.  “And also he’s like, _huge_ ,” she added, and Duke choked on his wine.  She _laughed_ , high and bright, clearly having been trying for that exact reaction.

“You-” Duke started, warning in his tone, because that was _uncalled for_ , and she just laughed harder, clearly not taking him seriously as a threat.

“You have a dirty mind,” she managed, in between giggles, “he’s _tall_ , I swear, everyone in this town is ridiculous, he makes you and Nathan look short and spindly and you _aren’t_ , but like, have you _seen_ him?  Those _shoulders_.”

“I have, in fact, and yes, he is a damn sasquatch, I am not disputing that,” Duke replied, and Jennifer made a half-hearted effort to punch his shoulder for the insult.  She missed, and clipped his chin instead, and promptly gasped in horror, nearly dropping her glass in her effort to set it aside so she could cradle his chin in her hands.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she said, eyes wide, “I didn’t mean to!”  She looked stricken, and it was _adorable_ , particularly given that she’d barely grazed him.

“Hey, no, it’s fine,” he started, laughing and leaning back, trying to free himself from her anxious hold, which mostly just made her tip forward, until she was leaning on his chest, hands still cupping his chin.  “Seriously, you barely touched me, I’ve had worse, relax-”

There was a pointed cough from the doorway, and Duke froze, and quickly double-checked where his hands were, because yeah, this was _excellent_ timing, really it was.

“Something you two want to mention?” Dwight asked, tone so dry it could be classified as a fire hazard, and Jennifer blinked, and only then seemed to realize that the position they were in could easily be interpreted as something decidedly less innocent than it was.  She tried to scramble back, and failed, getting tangled up in her own legs, and Duke did not move _at all_ , because yeah, no, he was not at all interested in either Dwight or Nathan deciding he’d been up to something, because that would _not_ end well for him.

“No,” Jennifer managed, once she’d detangled herself, earnest and worried.  “No, that was- I just accidentally might’ve punched him in the face a little and-”

Nathan, leaning in the doorway just behind Dwight, made a sound that was probably a choked off laugh, and Dwight’s expression flickered, just a bit, lips turning up at the corners, and Duke relaxed, just slightly.  They weren’t angry, they weren’t suspicious.  They were _amused_.  He could work with amused, amused would not result in him getting smacked around for putting the moves on the chief of police’s new girlfriend while his own not-boyfriend was just downstairs.

“Out of curiosity, did you have a reason?” Dwight asked, and yeah, no, that was definitely amusement, dry and well hidden, but there.  “Because generally speaking, assault is frowned upon here.”

“She was defending your honor,” Duke said, flashing a crooked smile, taking a chance that good humor would hold.  “It was very impressive.”

“Oh, well, in that case we can overlook it,” Dwight replied, and Nathan muffled another laugh, and Duke sent a half-hearted glare in his direction.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be on my side, here,” he pointed out, affecting to look wounded, and Nathan raised an eyebrow.

“Really?  I spend all afternoon working, and come upstairs to find you’ve been passing the time drinking with a beautiful woman, and you’re mad at _me_?”

“I _would_ have been working, but I was not invited,” Duke pointed out, “And also, she’s taken.”  Both Jennifer and Dwight blushed at his comment, which amused Duke immensely.

“So’re _you_ ,” Nathan replied, a hint of possessiveness in his voice, and Duke blinked, because _what_?  Letting Jennifer know was one thing, but saying something like that in front of _Dwight_?  Another cop, his _boss_ , someone he had to work with- Duke didn’t know what to do with that, didn’t know how to interpret that, when Duke had honestly assumed this was... well, _temporary_.  Something Nathan needed _now_ , but would very quickly abandon once Audrey was back.  Something he’d prefer to never have to admit to.

He’d hated the thought, _hated_ it, but he’d been willing to live with it, because it was still more than he’d ever expected.

“What were you two doing up here, anyway?” Dwight asked, looking around at the cushions and rugs and candles like he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know, but couldn’t afford not to ask- and not looking as though he was in any way surprised by Nathan’s comment, which, again, _what_.

“Meditating,” Jennifer said, and her tone spoke _volumes_ about how much she’d enjoyed that.  “At least, until I couldn’t take it any more, and then drinking and talking.”

“Sounds like... quite the afternoon,” Dwight said, and Duke was pretty sure he was being judged, right now, but honestly, that was not the worst way this conversation could have gone down.  And everyone else could mock his meditation and his yoga, but he was still twice as flexible as anyone else in the room, and there were very practical reasons to maintain that.

Also less practical, more fun reasons, but that was not the point.

“Yeah, well, a little bit of breathwork, a little bit of meditation, they can do wonders for concentration and focus,” Duke said, because even if he hadn’t been in the top-secret police only meeting, he’d still been _working_.  He was trying to help Jennifer tune in to the Barn, because that was still the best chance they had of finding Audrey.  And he wanted, _needed_ , to find Audrey, just as much as anyone else did.

He wanted her back, wanted her home, wanted her safe.  Missed her, with an ache that was worse every day.  Knew, too, that Nathan was _suffering_ without her, that nothing Duke did could distract him from that for long.

He needed to find Audrey.  No matter what it meant for the strange, quiet- or, apparently, not so quiet- intimacy he’d built up with Nathan.  Needed her back, even if he never really had her to begin with, even if he’d never actually have her- he could live with that, so long as she was safe and happy and _there_.  Could live with friendship, even if it wasn’t all he wanted.

He wished that getting everything he wanted wouldn’t also mean losing everything he had.

“Uh huh,” Dwight said, expression still skeptical, and he reached out a hand.  “You ready to head out, Jennifer?  We’re done here, and I promised you dinner.”  Jennifer skipped- well, sort of, there was a little bit of stumbling involved, but she _had_ been drinking- over to Dwight’s side, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together.

“I am totally ready except I may have lost my shoes.”

“Next to the door,” Duke said, not bothering to get up, and Jennifer glanced around until she found them.

“Oh!  Right.  Thanks.  Yes, we can go now,” she said, smiling up at Dwight, and it was a long way up, actually, Jennifer was right, Dwight was kind of unsettlingly tall.  Dwight smiled indulgently back, and it was strangely satisfying to watch; Duke was pretty sure he’d done a good thing, there.  Kind of liked feeling like he might have contributed, obliquely, to his friends being happy.

Kind of liked feeling like he had that sort of friend at all, actually.  Even if the bar was pretty low.

“Night, Jennifer, night, Dwight.  See you in the morning,” he offered, raising his wineglass in their direction, and Jennifer waved awkwardly, balancing on one foot as she tried to put her shoes on.  Well, less balancing, more being held up by Dwight, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“You planning on getting up off the floor?” Nathan asked, meandering over to nudge Duke in the side with his foot, and Duke tilted his head back, and grinned, because that was _also_ a long way up, at least from where he currently was.

“You could come down here, and join me,” he countered.  “Pretty sure there’s another bottle of wine around here somewhere.”

“Pretty sure you don’t need any more,” Nathan replied, nudging him again, and Duke made a half-hearted effort to swat his ankle.  Not that it would do anything.

“Stop it,” he huffed.  “I’m comfortable.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Nathan countered, and nudged him again.  “Come on, have a little dignity, Crocker.”

Well that, that could not be left unanswered.  Very deliberately, Duke _stretched_ , a slow and deliberate motion that took advantage of his position to show off just how flexible he was, that he knew _damn_ well would emphasize the lean lines and well-tended muscles that he was justly proud of.  Nathan flushed red, and Jennifer dropped her shoe, and Duke rolled to his feet, inches away from Nathan, with another decidedly-sensual movement.

“I,” he said, smirking and putting his hands on Nathan’s hips, “am _always_ dignified.   _You_ , however, look a little ruffled.”

“Please, _please_ at least let us leave the room,” Dwight said, sounding pained, and Jennifer made a disappointed sound, and Duke glanced over to see Dwight looking pointedly at the ceiling, still mostly keeping Jennifer on her feet- though he’d managed to turn her so that she was facing the door.  Hence, Duke assumed, the disappointment.  Nathan wasn’t just flushed, now, he was _blushing_ , bright red and speechless, and Duke laughed, because it was nice to know he could still own a room, if he wanted to.

“Look, I said goodbye, I’m not sure why you’re still here,” he said, shrugging.  “Not my problem if you see more than you planned on-”

Nathan covered his mouth with one hand, cutting him off, and Duke considered licking his palm to get him to stop, but that... would actually not be very effective, all things considered.

“You are a menace,” Nathan accused, still vibrantly red, before he made a fairly impressive effort to rally, turning to Dwight.  “Not sure how long I can keep him muzzled, you might want to-”

“We’re going,” Dwight replied, sweeping- pretty literally, actually, Duke was pretty sure Jennifer wasn’t standing on her own power right now- Jennifer out of the room and down the hall.  Nathan waited until they heard the door clang shut before he released Duke’s mouth, and Duke smirked at him.

“Muzzled, really?” he asked, and Nathan looked like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or to smack him.  “I mean, normally I’m not into that sort of thing-”  Nathan broke, and came down on the center line, laughing and cuffing Duke’s shoulder.

“What the _hell_ ,” he said, affection and amused dismay in his voice, and Duke leaned in and kissed him.

“You started it,” he pointed out, when he pulled back.  “Seriously, what was that?”

“Should I not have?”

“No, that’s- I just...”

“I’m not _hiding_ this, Duke,” Nathan said, reaching out, pressing his hand to the line of Duke’s jaw, meeting his eyes with an unsettling level of intensity.  “Not gonna pretend it’s not happening.”

“...Okay.”  And it was okay.  Also confusing, unsettling, a little overwhelming, but Duke wasn’t going to argue.  If Nathan was willing to acknowledge this, well, Duke was very okay with that.

He’d take whatever he could get, for as long as he could hold on to it.

“You okay to handle the stairs, or are we stuck up here for a while?”  Nathan asked, and Duke blinked.

“It was a couple bottles of _wine_ , Nate, I’m good to fly a fucking plane, I can handle the stairs.”  Which was maybe overstating things a little bit, he probably wasn’t actually up to piloting a plane- wouldn’t take out a car or the boat, either- but that was not really the point.

“Good, because I’m pretty sure we had plans,” Nathan replied, and Duke grinned.

“Oh, I am _definitely_ okay, then.”

“Menace,” Nathan said, warm and affectionate, and Duke laughed and pushed him toward the door.

“I can live with that.”


	4. Chapter 4

Time was moving too slowly; the rate of collapse was too high, the movement of external time too fast.  William didn’t have time enough to work.

Fortunately, he’d worked with more complicated constructions than the Amplifier, and he understood the mechanics of it better than the beings who had built it.  With a few minor corrections, he shifted the timeflow, gave himself room to work.

He needed it; she was _stubborn_ , and the Amplifier had already layered the newest incarnation over her mind.

Lexi DeWitt was full of fire and spite, a child looking for adventure.  More like she should be than the last few had been, but still _wrong_ , and he wondered what the Gatekeeper had been thinking, with this one.  She was no peacemaker, no healer, no truthseeker, no instrument of justice.  It was an oddity, and William didn’t trust oddities.  Particularly when they related to the Gatekeeper- he was _far_ too clever, for a construct.  Far too adaptive.

Far more of a challenge than his creators, in all honesty.

Lexi was a complication.  Still new, still untempered, there was very little for William to work with, very little he could use to persuade her.  Her personality was still flexible, which created risk; if he pushed too hard, she might bend, rather than breaking.  He didn’t want to _mold_ her, didn’t want to sculpt her; didn’t want a copy, or a collage.  He wanted _her_ , unfettered, unlayered.  It would have been easier if she’d had more time to settle, if the shell was harder.

But he could only do so much with time, and the Amplifier was never meant to do more than provide the basics.  Growth and tempering happened in the real world, so he had to work with Lexi.

No matter how little it appeared that Lexi wanted to work with him.  The scenario he constructed was careful, was well-thought-out.  Should have appealed to the common denominator in _every_ personality they forced on her, should also have reinforced the connection they had.

Should have.

Didn’t.

Oh, she _responded_ , she _reacted_ , but she also _resisted_.  Took each step closer with only the utmost reluctance, until he had to force her hand.  Had to try and reach the last incarnation, and _that_ was a risk, mixing another set of memories into things, but Audrey Parker had been solid, had been settled.  Could be shattered.

She went for the gun.  Put it together with the ease of practice.  Stared down the aetherlings with Audrey’s confidence and Lexi’s anger and _her_ underlying all of it, and William smiled.

He’d get there.  He’d get there eventually.

***

Lexi was getting tired of this.  Was getting tired of the hints and the not-quite-explanations, of the implications and innuendo.  She was who she was, and she _knew that_.  She was Lexi DeWitt, she was a bartender, she had a name and a past and this guy was starting to grate on her very last nerve.  Even if she was still unsure of how she’d put the damn gun back together.

William leaned closer, over the bar, and for a second, there was a flash of _something_.  The sense that this was _familiar_ , but not quite right.  He was on the wrong side of the bar, had the wrong smile.  He should be lean where he was broad; his face should be angular where it was square.  There should be dark eyes watching her with that too-knowing devotion, not blue, and under dark hair, not blond.

For just a second, she could see a different man, a different bar that felt like home, and there was a different name on his lips.  And she _knew_ , knew low in her gut with a certainty beyond telling, that she _trusted_ that man, that he would drown himself in blood, if he had to, to keep her dry.

Then the moment was gone, and Lexi glared at William, pushing his drink across to him.

"No," she said, tone flat. "I don't believe you."  Was _disappointed_ , because for that single moment, she’d felt _safe_ , and then she’d lost it.  Was _angry_ , that William could make her doubt, could make her wonder.  Could make her think there was a chance he might be right.

"Yes you do," William said, smiling faintly.  "I can see you starting to remember. I can see you starting to believe."

"Can you see me starting to get really, really pissed off?" Lexi asked, sharp, "because I am."

"It's okay to be afraid," William replied, earnest.  “I know this is upsetting, I know that it’s not easy to understand.  But I’m here to help you.  You don’t have to face this alone.”

Another moment, another surge of _something_ , of _someone_ \- not the dark-eyed man, this time, though there were similarities.  Dark hair, angular face, lean- but the eyes were blue, and there was less laughter in them, less knowledge.  A different kind of devotion, a different kind of faith.  She didn’t have to go it alone.  He’d be there to help her, solid and sure.  He’d follow her down whatever path she walked, however shadowed.

Lexi doubted that this was what William was angling for.  Lexi knew men, knew their games, and William wasn’t trying to help her.  He wanted something, and she didn’t quite understand what, but she doubted very much that it involved anything that included the strangers she knew that she knew.  Doubted he’d keep playing nice if she told him that whatever she _might_ be remembering, it didn’t include him.

Knew, with the calm and bitter certainty of someone who’d made the mistake before, that she could not trust this man.  That he was not all he claimed to be.  That she’d be much, much safer with one of her dark-haired boys.

Whoever they were.

“Why do you want to help me?” she asked, letting her voice tremble, just a little.  Playing along, playing his game.  Let him think he was in control, let him think he was winning.

She’d get what she could from him, until she understood what she was seeing, what she was feeling.  Who she was remembering.

Then William was out of luck.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, lovelies! Hope it offers each of you joy and opportunity.

Duke was humming to himself as he cooked, moving around the kitchen in nothing but a pair of boxers, doing something with smoked salmon and something... floral, Nathan thought, and whatever it was, it smelled amazing.  Nathan glanced up now and again from the couch, caught somewhere between contentment and the worst sort of fear.   

Dwight’s words had hammered home that this was not a simple situation, that no matter how easy it was for Nathan to drift into a space where all he wanted was to enjoy the fact that someone he cared about was shimmying around in the kitchen, underdressed and having fun, making dinner for them to share, he _couldn’t_.  Because relaxing, letting his guard down, letting _himself_ believe this, the way he was letting Duke believe it, could only end in disaster.

The idea that he’d made Duke _more_ of a target, by getting involved with him, the idea that Duke was at even greater risk than he’d been before, because Nathan cared about him, because Nathan had been _obvious_ about it, even before they’d started... this, burned.  And it wasn’t that Duke was helpless, it wasn’t that he couldn’t look after himself, because Nathan knew better than that.  He knew that Duke was prepared to the point of paranoia, that he was cautious and wary and distrustful.  Knew that Duke could defend himself, given half a damn chance.

Problem was, he knew that Vince knew those things, too, and Duke was emotional and impulsive at the worst times, had a temper and a hair trigger and visible pressure points.  Taking him off-guard, well, that wasn’t likely to happen.  Tricking him into exposing himself by pushing him into a rage?  That was much, much easier to do.  And he couldn’t remember what he might’ve let slip to Jordan, what he might’ve mentioned in passing to Dave or Vince, or even to Dwight or Audrey when one of the Teagues brothers was _around_ , that could be used, that could have been filed away.  He’d certainly never been particularly shy about sharing his less-than-flattering opinions of Duke in the past, as Dwight had reminded him.

_That’s not the tune you were singing before he disappeared._

There was too much truth to that statement.  Hell, Nathan had told Audrey, point blank, had said, had _meant_ , that she couldn’t ever trust Duke.  That she didn’t know him as well as she thought.

How much of that had been jealousy, how much of that had been old anger, and how much of it had been _truth_?

Looking back, a lot of it was jealousy.  A lot of it was anger.  Nathan had been so afraid that Duke would take Audrey away from him, that she’d be persuaded by his looks and easy charm and unrepentant bad-boy mystique, and it was stupid, because those weren’t the things that he should have worried about.  Weren’t the things Audrey’d seen in Duke to begin with.  What she’d seen was so much more of a threat- loyalty, generosity of spirit, patience and perseverance.  He’d been a _friend_ to Audrey, first and foremost, and a _good_ one, and Nathan had hated that, too.  Had hated watching Duke offer her that, hated seeing Duke be for Audrey what he’d always been for Nathan-

-and had _stopped_ being, without a word of explanation.  Without so much as a word _goodbye_.

And that wasn’t something Nathan could explain to Audrey, not without touching on things that were on some level even more personal than what he _had_ told her.  He couldn’t explain that the reason she shouldn’t, _couldn’t_ , trust Duke was because Duke _was_ everything she thought he was, everything she’d seen, and it still wouldn’t stop him from disappearing without a trace.

Probably right when she needed him most.

Unsettled, and not at all liking the direction his thoughts were trending in, Nathan stood up and went into the kitchen, catching Duke around the waist and pulling him close.  The sharp reminder of how easily Duke _disappeared_ was not one he appreciated, and he wanted the reassurance of having hold of him.  Duke craned his neck, trying to look over his shoulder, expression amused and confused.

“I’m working here, Wuornos,” he pointed out, though he didn’t make any serious effort to pull away.  “And I thought I told you to wait in the other room.”

“You did,” Nathan agreed, not letting go, “but you’re not doing anything on the stove, so I think you can spare a minute.”

“Oh, you think that, do you?  You have no idea how delicate this process might be-”

“Don’t care,” Nathan replied, curling forward as much as he could, aiming a kiss at a point along Duke’s jawline that tended to make him wriggle in interesting ways, and Duke laughed and cursed and tried to twist around.

“Okay, what’s going on, this is clingy even for current standards,” Duke said, when he’d managed to get himself turned in Nathan’s hold, so that they were eye to eye and practically nose to nose.  His expression still held amusement, but there were hints of concern beneath it, a wary caution that he never seemed to completely lose.

“Just... thinking,” Nathan replied, and Duke’s expression flickered, assessing and careful, and he leaned sideways enough to put down the spatula he’d been holding.

“Lucky for you, I _can_ actually spare a minute,” he said lightly, pushing Nathan backwards, guiding him easily- and something in Nathan’s mind filed that away as problematic, suggested that Duke could only guide Nathan that easily, backwards and when Nathan couldn’t feel his feet, couldn’t sense for obstructions in his path, if Nathan _did_ trust Duke, if he _did_ believe that Duke would lead him safely- until they reached the couch, and Duke pushed Nathan down, sprawling out himself half across Nathan’s lap.  Which was actually very distracting, because again, boxers and nothing else, and that was a lot of skin on display, highlighted in warm tones from the lights, and that was not what Nathan was supposed to be focusing on.  “So, what’s on your mind?  Is it whatever that meeting of yours was actually about?”

“Yeah,” Nathan said, and Dwight was really kind of fooling himself if he thought Nathan wasn’t going to end up talking some of this through with Duke.

“So, what doesn’t Dwight want me to know?”

“He’s concerned about the Guard.  Vince isn’t giving us anything to work with, and Dwight thinks it’s a power play.  Thinks he’s keeping us off-balance on purpose, because it gives him an edge.”

“Makes sense,” Duke said, not sounding surprised.  “Also doesn’t sound like anything I shouldn’t be read in on- unless he’s worried I’m going to do something about it, but I’m pretty sure going at Vince directly won’t end well for anyone, and I don’t really give a shit about the rest of the Guard.”

“I don’t think that’s it, exactly.  I think he’s more worried about what Vince might do next, if he decides we’re not playing by his rules,” Nathan replied, wondering if he should be worried that Duke’s comment sounded an awful lot like he’d _considered_ going at Vince directly.  Wondering when he’d gotten to a place in his life where he _had_ to wonder about things like that, when it wasn’t just automatically a problem that one of his people was possibly considering doing serious violence to another human being.

“No, that’s what _you’re_ worried about.  Dwight’s worried about something else- he could have told me this, so there’s more to it.  It’s fine, I’ll figure it out eventually.”  Duke sounded _casual_ about that, as though it didn’t even faze him that he’d been cut out of the discussion, that Dwight had been trying to keep information from him.  Like it was expected, just how things worked in Duke’s world.  Nathan was pretty sure that wasn’t a good thing- Duke shouldn’t _expect_ that level of dismissal.  “So?  Why is that what you’re worried about?”

“If he thinks he has to put pressure on me...”

“He can’t touch you, he needs you.  He’s gotta know going at you isn’t worth the risk.”

“Which is why it’s not me I’m worried about,” Nathan pointed out, and Duke sat up a bit, gave him a look that was somewhere between affection and disbelief.

“You know I can take care of myself, Nate.”

“Usually, yeah, but you don’t always think before you react.”

“Name _one time_ -”

“You got _shot_.  This week!  This week, you got shot, because you were trying to protect me-”

“Okay, fine, yes, but Vince can’t exactly use that, can he?  Taking a shot at you and _expecting_ me to get in the way seems like a pretty poor risk assessment-”

“What about Wade?  Or Jennifer?”  Nathan asked, and that brought Duke up short, his expression twisting, a flicker of rage darkening his features.

“That would be a very bad decision,” Duke said.

“That’s my point,” Nathan said.  “Just mentioning the possibility, and you’re ready to declare war.”

“This is already a war, Nathan, nothing left to declare.”

“That’s _not the point_ ,” Nathan replied.  “The point is, you need to be careful.”

“Look, it’s a non-issue,” Duke said, leaning back again, stretching out across the couch.  “Vince has absolutely no reason to think that we _aren’t_ playing by his rules.  We’re abiding by the terms- you go to work, you help Dwight sort out Troubles, we’re doing what we can to look for Audrey.  I’m on my best behavior, haven’t threatened anybody all week, except Wade, and he doesn’t count.  We can work on what we need to work on without anybody being the wiser.  We’ve played harder games than this.”

“This isn’t a _game_ , Duke!  This isn’t- the consequences here aren’t getting arrested and disappointing my father, this is your _life_ we’re talking about.”

“And it’s been my life for _years_ ,” Duke replied.  “Come on, Nate, think.  You, of all people, should know this.  I’ve been gambling everything on believable performances for more than a decade now.  I think I can keep one tiny detail out of the public eye, and don’t pretend you’ve lost your touch, because that would be a _lie_.  You worked Wade just as well as you worked marks back in school.  And again, it’s not like we aren’t _playing by the damn rules_ , here.”

“Look, just- you wanted a promise from me.  I want one from you.  Promise me you’ll be careful, promise me you won’t go rushing into anything, no matter what it is.”  And never mind how horribly disingenuous that was, how underhanded it was for Nathan to demand a promise in exchange for a promise he had no intention of keeping.  He needed, and Audrey would need, Duke whole and healthy and safe, and Nathan would do what he had to to make that happen.

“Really, that’s what we’re doing here?” Duke asked, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, damnit, that’s what we’re doing here,” Nathan replied, intense and unwilling to yield.  “Please, Duke.”

“Fine.  I promise, I’ll be careful.  I won’t go rushing in anywhere if I have any other choice,” Duke said, with a heavy sigh.  Nathan wondered whether or not he meant it, whether or not that promise had any more weight than his own.  It was Duke, after all, and Duke had only ever had a passing familiarity with the truth.

Not that Nathan really had room to judge.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.  You good now, or...?”

“Could be better,” Nathan said, trying for a smile, trying for suggestive, and Duke laughed, warm and affectionate.

“Yeah, you may not get sore if we overdo, but I will, so that’s going to have to wait.  Never figured you for _insatiable_ , Nate, gotta say.  Kinda like it, though.”

“Your fault,” Nathan replied, shrugging, and Duke’s expression shifted, soft with surprise.

“Good to know,” he said, and Nathan was pretty sure he meant it to sound cocky and certain, but it mostly just sounded confused, like he couldn’t imagine how that was a possibility.

Nathan wondered if there would be time for that constant disbelief to fade.  Wondered if that would be better, or worse, when everything came crashing down.

“Sorry I interrupted.  You sounded like you were enjoying yourself.”

“Yeah, well,” Duke replied, rolling to his feet.  “Wasn’t anything that couldn’t keep.”

“I could _help_ ,” Nathan pointed out.

“Yeah, no.  Stay out of my kitchen, the only participation you need to have in this process is eating what I put in front of you.  Do some work or something.  Dwight left you way too much paperwork to do, considering he was supposedly here for a case you _closed_ four years ago.  ...Guess he thought he needed to make it believable.”  Duke started back in the direction of the kitchen, still sounding so casually _unconcerned_ about being left out, about being deceived.

“How does that not _bother_ you?” Nathan asked, without thinking.

“What?” Duke turned back to him, a flicker of confusion showing.

“You’re just... taking it as a given that Dwight lied to you.  How can you be okay with that?  Thought you two were on decent terms.”

“We are,” Duke replied, shrugging.  “What does that have to do with him not trusting me?  Nobody trusts me, Nate.  Remember?”

“And that doesn’t _bother_ you?”

“Only bothers me when it’s you and Audrey,” Duke replied with another shrug, this one much less casual.  His expression was flat, carefully blank- unreadable.  Unless someone already knew that Duke was only unreadable when he was angry or hurt, and trying not to let on- which Nathan did, had for years.

“She’s always trusted you.”  Which had bothered Nathan, more than it should.  How Audrey had sized Duke up in one meeting, and taken his side against Nathan’s before she’d even been in town for a week, how she’d defended him, over and over, and tried to fix things between them without even knowing half of what was broken.  How, even after it’d come out that Simon Crocker had left his son a legacy of murder, with final instructions to see Audrey dead, Audrey had still been so certain that she could count on Duke.  Nathan had hated it, that certainty- because he’d had it too, once.

“You haven’t.”  The words were an accusation, quiet and raw, and Duke looked like he hadn’t meant to say it, tensing his jaw as soon as he spoke, bracing for the reaction.

“You didn’t exactly give me much reason to!”  The words slipped out, angry and aggressive, and Nathan regretted them immediately, _knew_ he shouldn’t have gone there, but the _doubt_ he’d been reminded of sat like a spectre on his thoughts.

“Excuse me?” Duke asked, the words _cold_ , and the blank mask slipped away, replaced by a bright, brilliant sort of anger- cheeks flushed, eyes narrow, lips curled into something like a sneer.  “I didn’t give you much _reason_ to?  I have had your back since we were _kids_ , Nate-”

“You _left_!” Nathan snapped, louder than he’d meant to.  Rougher than he’d meant to be.  “You left without a _word_ , Duke, you just- one day you were there, and the next, you were _gone_.  And I didn’t hear from you again for _seven fucking years_!  You just _disappeared_ , no explanation, no way to reach you, and you want to tell me you _had my back_?”

“What the hell else was I supposed to do?” Duke hissed back, taking a single step forward, looming over Nathan, and it was familiar in all the wrong ways, the poisonous aggression that had marked out the last three years suddenly present where it had been absent for nearly a week.  Its return left Nathan reeling, left him feeling like the ground had been yanked out from under him- all the worse because he’d started this, he’d pushed this.  He scrambled awkwardly to his feet, so that Duke didn’t have the advantage of height, of position, but Duke didn’t back off.  And it should have been ridiculous, should have been laughable, that kind of fury and threat and calculation when Duke was barely dressed and completely unarmed, but all it did was remind Nathan forcibly that Duke was just as dangerous with only his damn skin as he was with a weapon in hand.  “You knew _exactly_ who and _what_ I was, Nathan, and you wanted me to sit back and wait for you to come back from the academy?  Wait for you to _realize_ that you were going to have to choose between your shiny new career and me?  I _begged you_ not to go.  I offered to take you _anywhere_ , I made promises I _still_ don’t know if I could have kept, and _none of it mattered to you_!”

“And you couldn’t think of a better way to handle things than _disappearing off the map_?” Nathan shouted, pushing forward, pushing Duke back a step.  “You didn’t think that maybe I might want to know you were still _alive_?”  And god, that...  That had been hard, had been a constant, numbing worry that he’d never shaken.  A weight he’d never gotten out from under.  Duke had been _gone_ , and Nathan never even knew if he’d left under his own power or not.

He’d thought, after everything, that he’d gotten to a point where it wouldn’t hurt so much, the next time.  Had thought after years of open fighting and animosity, that he _wouldn’t care_ the next time Duke disappeared on him.

He’d been wrong, so unbelievably wrong, and he _knew_ it, now, knew he couldn’t hold through it again.

“You think maybe I didn’t want to hear final proof that you _didn’t_?” Duke shouted back, and his expression was sharp enough to cut glass, grief and rage and Nathan should step back, should try to disengage, knew it, but Duke had always been able to get under his skin, had always been able to make him unreasonable and irrational and _emotional_ , and the accusation _hurt_.

“You were my _best friend_ ,” Nathan snarled.  “You were my _only_ friend, and you really thought I would, what, not _notice_ that you’d disappeared?  You thought that- that choosing this job meant I didn’t _care_ if you were okay?”

“What else was I supposed to think?” Duke bit out, looking- looking _lost_ , bewildered, under the fury.  “You picked the _one damn job_ that put you on the other side.  You couldn’t be a fireman, you couldn’t be an EMT, you had to be a _goddamn cop_?  You told me, to my face, that your father was _right_.  About _everything_.  How else was I supposed to take that?  The man threatened to shoot me a dozen times after I turned sixteen!”  Duke paused, and before Nathan could come up with a response to that, before he could even formulate a real thought, because _no_ , that wasn’t- that wasn’t anything he’d _ever_ meant, Duke was continuing, charging along like he’d been storing this up for _years_ , and maybe he had been.  Maybe this was part of the seething frustration Nathan had sometimes spotted when he caught Duke watching him, since he’d come back into town.

“And I was supposed to do _what_ , exactly, Nathan?  I didn’t _get_ to go off to school, remember?  I didn’t get to pick a career path.  I _already_ had a record.  How exactly was I supposed to keep _eating_ , keep paying rent on the slip, when you knew _every trick_ , you knew _every play_ , because you _ran them with me_?  How was I supposed to make that work?  Or did that just not _occur_ to you?  You had the option of switching teams, I _didn’t_.”

“You really don’t think you had any other options?” Nathan asked, the fight going out of him as quickly as it had come, because it _hadn’t_ occurred to him.  It had honestly never once occurred to him that Duke wouldn’t be able to adapt, wouldn’t be able to find something else.  Duke had _always_ adapted.  Nathan couldn’t think of a single time, when they were growing up, when Duke hadn’t just... adjusted, when Nathan made a change, when Nathan needed something from him.  Was honestly struggling to come up with any situations _recently_ where he hadn’t done the same- how often had Duke left his _respectable_ job at a moment’s notice, because Audrey or Nathan asked him to?  How often had he come to _them_ , when something was off, because he was- however reluctantly, and facing however much opposition from Nathan- part of their team?  Duke had jumped into a _disintegrating magical portal_ because Nathan had asked him to.

The idea that Duke might actually have _limits_ was... unfathomable, because Nathan had simply never _seen_ them.  Which was absurd, of course it was absurd, but on some level, Nathan had always just assumed that there _wasn’t_ anything Duke _couldn’t_ do.

It was a horrible amount of faith to put in a person, actually.  It was a horrible amount of faith to realize he _had_ put in a person.

“What options?” Duke asked, laughing, the sound raw.  “I barely scraped up a high school diploma.  I had no legitimate job history.  I had no money.  I had five arrests and a six month stint upstate.  No one in this town was gonna hire me for anything other than what I was already doing.  And the only reason I got by as long as I did was because I wasn’t doing it all alone, I had you in my corner.  Going up _against_ you?  I didn’t stand a fucking _chance_.  It was give up or get out, and I _got out_.”

“Why the hell didn’t you _tell me that_?” Nathan asked, and Duke stared at him like he had no idea what to do with him.  Like he could not imagine that Nathan had actually asked him that question.

“I shouldn’t have had to,” Duke replied, slowly, like he was only just putting pieces together himself, and like he wasn’t at all pleased with the picture they made.  “You were right there, Nate.  You bailed me out twice.  You loaned me money more times than I want to think about, honestly, when things were so tight I couldn’t pay for the slip, or for fuel.  You knew I was on the ragged edge.”

“No, I didn’t,” Nathan replied, and his voice rasped- his mouth was dry, maybe, his throat tight.  Because he _hadn’t known_.  And he should have.  He _had_ been right there.  Duke had been the only real friend Nathan had had, and Nathan _hadn’t known_ that he’d been that close to _desperate_.

“Fucking _Christ_ , Nate, maybe your dad really was right.  You never could see what was right in front of you, could you?” Duke asked, and the words were soft, almost sad, despite the _disdain_ layered thick beneath them.  “I mean, I knew it was all a game for _you_ , knew it was just... youthful rebelliousness, because you had a roof over your head and food on the table and a father who gave a shit if you lived or died, I knew you didn’t _need_ to do any of it, but this has never been a game to me.  This was never a _choice_ I made, this was my _life_.”

It took Nathan a second, to understand what that implied.  And he remembered the panic he’d seen, when Duke had found his kitchen empty, the overwhelming urgency to _fix it_ that he hadn’t understood, that had made him wonder just what he’d missed.

Nathan had had a roof over his head and food on the table, so he hadn’t _needed_ to do what they did.  It had been a game to him, because he’d had the basic necessities.

It had never been a game to Duke.  

Which meant Duke _hadn’t_.

This had been Duke’s _life_.

_Oh_.

Oh _shit_.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Duke could _hear_ the penny drop.  Could literally see the moment that it all fell into place for Nathan, the moment he added up everything he’d apparently never bothered to think about and came out with an answer.  And he wanted to laugh, wanted to throw his hands in the air and _laugh_ until he couldn’t breathe, because Nathan was a _goddamn detective_.

The irony was choking.

Or maybe it was just the frustration, the sense of immense, overwhelming _disappointment_ , because Duke had apparently never been important enough to rate a single moment of genuine consideration from the _one person_ in the _world_ that he’d actually wanted it from.

Nathan was an idiot, and Duke was twice the fool for never having realized that fact.

“And here I thought you were the smart one,” Duke said, the words caustic.  He felt _exposed_ , suddenly, and it was ridiculous, Nathan had seen literally every part of him, had fucked him not two hours before, had had his hands and his eyes all over him, and _now_ Duke felt exposed.  But then, two hours ago, Duke had been under the impression that Nathan actually knew him, and he’d apparently been wrong about that.

“Duke,” Nathan started, but it was obvious he didn’t know what to say, didn’t have any way to follow it up.  He looked stricken, pale and wide-eyed and _guilty_ , and Duke shook his head.

“Don’t,” he said, turning away, crossing over to the liquor cabinet and taking out a bottle, any bottle, and drawing the cork with a savage twist.  He took a long drink straight from the bottle, and it burned all the way down, and it did nothing to ease the cold lump of things he didn’t want to think about that had formed in his gut.  “Just... Don’t.”

“ _Duke_ ,” Nathan repeated, urgently, and Duke took another drink, considered how much was left in the bottle and how much he’d need to get truly black out drunk, and reached back into the cabinet, taking out another.  He’d need it.

“Think we’re about done talking, Nathan,” Duke said, rather impressed with his ability to keep his voice level.  “You’ve spent years not trusting me because I _left_ , and I’ve spent years thinking you had a _fucking clue_ , and I think that about covers everything we need to cover.”

“I don’t think it does,” Nathan said, sharp, and Duke took another drink before he slammed the extra bottle down on top of the cabinet more roughly than he needed to, because between the two of them, he was pretty sure he was the one who had the right to be pissed off, right now.

“What else do you want from me?” he snapped, turning around, and Nathan took a step back, a flash of something that could have been _fear_ showing, and that was funny, that was fucking _hilarious_ , Nathan being scared of _him_.

Duke had never been a goddamn threat to Nathan.  It had always been the other way around.

“I...”

“You thought I did this for kicks?  You thought this was, what, because I was just too _unreliable_ for real work?  Or just too dishonest?”

“I didn’t ever think to ask why,” Nathan replied.

“Yeah, well, you should have.”  Duke took another drink, and it was difficult to swallow past the tightness in his throat.  “I swear to god, Nate, some days I don’t know how you even _function_.”

“Some days I don’t either,” Nathan replied, and Duke shook his head, not mollified or amused by Nathan’s self-depreciation.

“You’re just like your dad,” Duke said, lip curled up in dislike, setting the open bottle down beside the other.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Nathan asked, instantly on the defensive, body tensing up.  Duke knew that look, knew that tension- it wouldn’t take much to draw Nathan into taking the first swing, and Duke was looking for a fight.  Needed one, needed to let some of what he was feeling _out_ , the only way he really could.  The only way that worked, when he was this wound up.  And he _needed_ to let some of this out, because no matter how he felt about this unpleasant revelation, he couldn’t afford to dwell, couldn’t afford to brood- couldn’t afford to let this impact him, when he was still the only one in a position to really watch Nathan’s back.  Which meant taking whatever shortcuts he had to, in terms of coping.  No matter how unhealthy they were.

“Selfish, self-absorbed, so caught up in his own damn narrative that he couldn’t see the damage he was doing,” Duke said, pushing, and it was only half-true, but Duke knew where Nathan’s vulnerable points were, where his weaknesses lay.  Knew just how to make him lose control.

“Duke,” Nathan growled, and it was a warning, a threat, and Duke was a little impressed, a little surprised.  Before the Barn, Nathan would already have been hitting him.   _That_ mollified him, just a little- however disappointed he was, however angry he was, things had shifted enough between them that Nathan was clinging to his control, was at least _trying_ not to go straight to beating him bloody.

Too bad that wasn’t what Duke wanted, just then.

“I mean, really,” Duke continued, smirking, head tilted and angled low, looking up at Nathan from beneath his lashes- coy, a come-on in any other circumstance, but a mockery now.  “He _knew_ the score, at least, but it didn’t fit his self-reliant philosophy to do anything about it.”  Nathan _flinched_ , which wasn’t what Duke expected, looked wounded and guilty instead of outraged, but either way, Duke was getting under his skin.  “Or maybe he just couldn’t let the town see him helping a Crocker.  You know how that goes.  You cops and your _reputations_.  Couldn’t be seen coddling the town monster, even if I was just a kid.”

He knew he’d won, saw Nathan crack, and he braced himself for the hit.  It landed high on his jaw, and it _hurt_ , which at least meant that Nathan hadn’t split his knuckles this time.  He wasn’t quite as prepared for the next one, expecting another high strike, because Nate seriously had a thing about aiming for his face, always had- so the low, driving punch that hit him square in the stomach was a surprise.

He swung back, knowing he was smiling, knowing that he shouldn’t be, that this shouldn’t be a relief, shouldn’t settle his nerves, but he’d always been a little fucked up.  He was careful; kept away from Nathan’s ribs, kept to places that weren’t already stained with bruises, because he didn’t actually want to _hurt_ Nathan.

Which was probably only a small part of how fucked up this was, but hey.

Nathan, predictably, didn’t react to Duke’s fists.  Did keep throwing hits of his own, expression wild and raw, all that emotion he used to keep back back showing plain as day, and Duke had to wonder if this would be as helpful for Nate as it was gonna be for him, as it already _was_ for him- he felt more clear headed, felt the tension bleeding out of him, the heavy hits each taking a fraction of the anger and hurt away.  If it would be _more_ useful for Nathan, to bleed out a little of that anger and frustration and helplessness that Nathan had been carrying for months.  If it would be as grounding as the sex seemed to be.

He really, really hoped this wasn’t going to make that not happen any longer, he would not be happy with that trade.

Going up against Nathan in a fight while his Trouble was active had always been like throwing himself at a brick wall.  They’d done it enough, in the years he’d been back in town, to know that if he wasn’t _angling_ to do harm, if he wasn’t intentionally trying to disorient Nathan, that Nathan would just keep going, unaware of whatever hits he was taking.  That Nathan’s hits wouldn’t weaken over time, as his knuckles got sore, as his wrists started to ache.  It was all the more true when Duke was specifically avoiding his torso, not doing anything that might drive the breath out of him for fear of breaking one of his already-cracked ribs.  So it didn’t actually take that long before Duke needed to change the play, give himself some kind of advantage before it went too far in the other direction.

It didn’t take much to knock Nathan off his feet, to transfer the fight from a stand-up punch-out to a flailing, rolling scuffle on the floor, and Duke had an advantage there, had a better sense for leverage and momentum than Nathan did.  Which still didn’t actually keep him from the occasional miscalculation, and he ended up pinned, Nathan above him, visibly winded and not seeming to notice, and Duke brought his arms up to block, rather than fighting back.

“Okay, okay, _enough_ ,” he said, yielding, and hoping Nathan was still _Nathan_ enough to listen.  Hoping he hadn’t pushed him too far, because he didn’t want to have to make him bleed, didn’t want to tempt fate to get out of this.

Nathan hesitated, paused, and Duke unclenched his fists, hands open and up in visible surrender.

“Enough,” he repeated, and Nathan blinked, expression shifting, realization seeming to set in, and he jerked back, scrambling to his feet and looking horrified and guilty.  ...Which Duke really should have predicted, and yeah, he wasn’t exactly working at his best here, either.  Had been too caught up in his own twisting emotions for his usual level of calculation where it came to Nathan’s reactions.

“Chill,” Duke said, getting to his feet, trying to demonstrate that he was _fine_ , that Nathan hadn’t actually done much damage.  “My fault, I instigated, don’t give me that ‘what have I done’ look.”

“Duke-”

“Seriously, Nathan, just...  Relax.  I started that, and you and I both know I could’ve stopped it at any point, if I wanted to.”

“Why the hell _didn’t_ you?” Nathan demanded, shifting in place, looking like he wanted to reach out, but didn’t dare.  Duke solved that problem by moving into Nathan’s personal space, backing him up against the counter, looking him over to make sure he hadn’t accidentally done more damage than he’d planned.

“Because I needed a fight,” Duke replied, catching one of Nathan’s wrists and running his fingertips over Nathan’s knuckles, checking to make sure nothing flexed where it shouldn’t, that nothing was too swollen.  “Needed to bleed off some of that tension, or this was gonna get very unpleasant.  We’re good now, in case you were wondering, I forgive you for being a _complete dumbass_.”  Which wasn’t _entirely_ true, Duke was still _hurt_ , would take some time to get past that, but the _anger_ was gone, and that was what mattered right now.  Duke was pretty good at ignoring things that hurt.  He could take the rest of it, fold it up and put it away with all the rest of his disappointments, cram it into the mental box alongside everything his parents had ever done and been, where it wouldn’t get in his way.

It wasn’t exactly healthy, but it let him function, let him keep going.

“You’re out of your mind,” Nathan said, though he sounded marginally less horrified than he had.  “That- that is not an acceptable way to handle things-”

“You have a better idea for next time?  ‘Cause we ain’t been easy for a long while now, Nate, and I don’t think that’s the last time we’re gonna find something we’d both rather we hadn’t.”  Duke let Nathan’s hand go, and caught the other one, running the same careful check, and Nathan breathed in a little too sharply, given that he shouldn’t be able to feel anything Duke was doing.  Duke looked up, concerned, and Nathan was staring down at their hands, eyes too wide, cheeks too red.  “...What?”

“Just-” Nathan blushed, and wet his lips with his tongue, and _that_ was interesting, Duke was _very_ interested in knowing what Nathan was fixating on that could get that reaction.  Preferred to contemplate that than anything else that was going on.  “Just...”

“Just _what_ , Nate?  Seriously, talk to me.”

“I... when you...  You’re _gentle_.  When you do that,” Nathan replied, shifting uncomfortably.  “Not used to it.”  Duke blinked, looking back down at their hands, remembered how Nathan had gotten quiet and intense when he’d bandaged him up.  How focused he’d been.  Tilting his head to the side, he very carefully ran his fingers over Nathan’s knuckles again, a slow, deliberate touch, and Nathan’s breath caught once more.  “Never saw you, like that.”

“I can be gentle,” Duke said, frowning, not sure if he meant it as an invitation or a defense of his character.

“Know that, now,” Nathan replied, reaching up to cup Duke’s cheek in one hand, and it _hurt_ , his fingers pressing into tender skin.  Duke didn’t flinch, rode out the first sharp burst of pain, and tilted his head, leaning in, letting the ache roll through him.  “Wish I could feel it.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll figure this out, and then you can,” Duke said, forcing a note of confidence into his voice.  Pretended to himself that Nathan would still care, when they had Audrey back.

“You need ice.”  Nathan brushed his fingers along the edge of Duke’s eye, and it _stung_ , and this time Duke flinched.

“Yeah, probably.”

“This _really_ isn’t an okay way to handle things,” Nathan said, frowning as he edged out from between Duke and the counter, heading for the freezer.

“You said it yourself, we used to fight all the damn time.”

“That was different,” Nathan said, mouth set in a stubborn line.

“Why, because we weren’t screwing?” Duke asked, making a face- and that hurt, okay, not doing that.

“ _Yes_ ,” Nathan replied, sharp.  “I- this isn’t...”

“Yeah, you’re gonna need to get over that, we fight sometimes, it’s a thing.  Doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means something to me.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Yes, it should.  And it should mean something to _you_.”

“I’m used to it,” Duke said, shrugging.

“That’s _not a good thing_ , Duke!”  Nathan sounded genuinely appalled, and Duke heaved a sigh.

“You worry way too much,” he said, shaking his head.  Nathan came back with a kitchen towel filled with ice cubes, and Duke reached out to take it, but Nathan batted his hand away, moving to hold it in place himself.  Duke sighed again, but let him, catching his wrist so that he could at least have a little control over the amount of pressure Nathan applied.

“You really don’t see a problem with this?” Nathan asked, looking Duke over, and okay, so, from an outside perspective, he could maybe see an issue with this, could maybe see how it would _appear_ to be a problem, but he wasn’t half as helpless as he looked at the moment.  And he didn’t really appreciate the implication that he was.

“Look, Nate, while this whole moral and protective thing is kinda hot, let me make this very clear.  Between the two of us?  You aren’t the dangerous one.  And you can’t do a damn thing to me that I don’t let you do.  So just- let it go.  I know what you’re worried about, and you don’t need to be.”  Duke was not some goddamn wilting flower, was not some delicate calf-eyed lily.  Violence was just a part of his life, he’d stopped taking it personally a long time ago.

“Worried about what you might _let_ me do,” Nathan said, frowning at the marks he’d left.  “Worried about what you might think you deserve.”

“The fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?” Duke asked, yanking back, glaring, and Nathan sighed and moved forward to reposition the ice pack.

“Means I’m not the only one here looking to bury their guilt,” Nathan said, fixing Duke with a hard look.  “And don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.  How many times’re you gonna hint that you’re a monster, exactly?  ‘Cause that’s _not_ actually going over my head.”

“Seriously, why are you only observant when it is inconvenient for me?” Duke asked, and it was a little more biting than it could have been, given the givens, a little more on point and aggressive, but Nathan just raised an eyebrow.

“Habit.  Told you that last time you asked,” he said, dry and flat.

“It’s annoying, stop it.”

“No.”

“You are a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Think you might’ve mentioned something about that earlier,” Nathan replied, tone still absolutely dry, and Duke blinked, considered, and blinked again.  Then he laughed, incredulous.

“Really?  Really, that- I- _wow_.”

“Stop moving your face,” Nathan said, shifting the ice pack again.  “Won’t do you any damn good if you don’t stay still, and this is already going to be a nightmare to explain.”

“Nobody is gonna care, Nathan.  Seriously.”

“I can think of at least three people who are gonna have a problem with this,” Nathan replied, glowering.  “And one of them is my boss.”

“Dwight?  You think _Dwight_ is going to care that I show up with a black eye?  Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“I think Dwight might care if he thinks one of his officers is making a habit of beating up his... partner, yes,” Nathan countered, hesitating over the title like it hurt, and Duke imagined it probably did.  After all, that wasn’t supposed to be anything Duke could claim.

“I could give you a matching one, if it’ll make you feel better,” Duke said, trying for glib, trying to gloss over the strangeness of Nathan claiming him as anything at all, let alone something that was so intimately tied up in Nathan’s relationship with Audrey.  “And you did not _beat me up_ , seriously, I was _holding back._ ”

“No, thank you, I would not like, that would not actually make this situation better,” Nathan said, sounding exasperated.  “And whether or not you were holding back is not the point.”

“Can always claim it was just a random brawl,” Duke offered, shrugging.  “Probably be believable.”

“You are not actually being helpful.  You know that, right?”

“What makes you think I want to be helpful?  You’re the one who’s worried about this.”  Duke offered Nathan a bright, taunting smile, and Nathan glared again.

“Stop moving your face,” he repeated, taking hold of Duke’s chin and _gripping_ , and Duke rolled his eyes.

“Fussy, fussy,” he complained, but he did make an effort to hold still.  Because he’d never admit it, but it was kind of nice to have Nathan fuss over him.  Even if it was completely unnecessary.

“You’re one to talk,” Nathan replied, and Duke tried to move, tried to pull a face, but Nathan’s grip on his chin tightened and his eyebrow went up warningly, and Duke sighed and stayed still.

“That’s different,” he said, instead.  “Someone doesn’t fuss over you, you won’t even know you have a problem.”

“And you like to pretend your problems don’t exist,” Nathan said flatly, “even when they do.”

“Denial is a good friend to me,” Duke agreed.  “Very rarely lets me down.”  Nathan flinched, and Duke closed his eyes and counted quickly down from ten.  “That wasn’t an accusation, Nate.”

“Didn’t need to be,” Nathan said.  “You gonna let me apologize?”

“No, but I will let you make it up to me,” Duke replied, shrugging.

“How?” Nathan asked, sounding hollow, sounding gutted, and Duke sighed.

“Stop focusing on the fact that I left, and remember that I came back.”

“I never meant to drive you away, Duke.”

“And I should have said goodbye.”

“Don’t leave me again,” Nathan said, and the words were desperate, full of fear.  Full of _need_.

“Not going anywhere, Nate,” Duke replied, a hollow ache forming in his chest, and he reached up to wrap his fingers around Nathan’s wrist.  “Not without you.”  He’d made that mistake twice, he didn’t plan on making it a third time.  Even if one of them was mostly unintentional- if he’d had any idea how long he’d be stuck in the Barn, he would have dragged Nathan along with him, and to hell with the risks.

“I hated that you left.  I _hated_ that you were gone.  I’d turn to try and talk to you, and you wouldn’t _be_ there, and it’d hit, all over again,” Nathan said, voice gone thin and ragged, and Duke shifted forward, pinned Nathan back against the counter again, so that he’d recognize the pressure, so that he’d be unable to ignore that they were touching.

“I wrote you letters,” Duke said, the admission slipping out.  “Never sent them, but I wrote them all the same.”

“Really?” Nathan asked, and Duke regretted, immensely, having said anything, because it was _stupid_ , it was... sentimental and childish and desperate, and he hated exposing that part of himself, hated acknowledging it.  But Nathan looked interested, looked _distracted_ , and what was one more indignity, in the long run?

“Really,” Duke confirmed, shrugging.  “You weren’t the only one looking to talk to someone who wasn’t there.”

“You keep’em?” Nathan asked, with far too much interest.

“...No,” Duke lied, _badly_ , his voice lifting enough to almost make the word a question, and Nathan raised his eyebrows, and yeah, that- he could have handled that denial better.  He just hadn’t expected Nathan to sound like he actually _wanted to know_ , and yeah, he was not prepared to trot out what had effectively been seven years worth of journal entries, because after the first few letters, that’s what they’d turned into.

“Uh huh,” Nathan said, but he didn’t push the issue, just adjusted the ice pack, and Duke sighed and tried not to fidget.  “...You could tell me, you know.”

“Tell you what?” Duke asked, not quite sure he followed.

“About where you were, what you did.  What you saw.  You always seem to have plenty of stories for other people, but you never...  You don’t talk to me.  About that.”

“You never asked,” Duke replied, shrugging.  “I didn’t think you _wanted_ to know.”

“Don’t think I did,” Nathan agreed, and the words were careful.  “Think I might, now.”

Duke wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought that might be a good thing.  Thought that might be a step forward in all the right ways, in all the ways he wanted to hope for.  Not an _easy_ step, but a good one.

“Okay.  Think I can work with that,” he said, giving Nathan a faint smile.  Nathan smiled tentatively back, and things weren’t okay, not really, but they were better.  Closer to what had started to pass for normal, over the last few days.

Closer to what was starting to feel like _home_.

And for someone who’d never really had one?  That was something to fight for.

“Okay,” Nathan said, and Duke took the ice pack out of his hand and stepped back.

“I was supposed to be making dinner,” he pointed out.  “I should get back to that.”

“Or we could put the food away, order something delivered, and you could sit down and keep that ice pack where it needs to be,” Nathan countered, and it didn’t sound so much like a suggestion as an order.  Duke considered making a face, but he was pretty sure it would only hurt, and Nathan was already, preemptively fixing him with judgemental eyebrows, so he sighed and gave in to the inevitable.

“Yeah, sure, fine, whatever.  You are a terrible influence, just so you know, I don’t think I’ve actually prepared more than four meals since I got back, and that is a _terrible_ ratio of meals prepared to meals consumed.  We’re going to end up with rickets or scurvy or something.”

“...You know that you don’t have to personally make the food for the food to contain nutrition, right?” Nathan asked, looking like he was more amused than he wanted to be.  “Other places make their food with actual _food_.”

“Lies,” Duke replied, pressing the ice pack back into place next to his eye.  “If I can’t see them make it, I can’t be sure about what’s in it.”

“I’m going to assume you’re joking, and order a pizza now.”

“Please put at least one vegetable on it.  I don’t care which one, but if a pizza shows up here and there’s nothing but four kinds of meat on it, you are going to be in trouble.”

“Go sit down, seriously, just- I can handle this.”

“ _Lies_ ,” Duke repeated, but he headed to the couch, detouring to pick up the open bottle of scotch before he flopped down and took a drink.  Things weren’t okay, but they were better.  Maybe even on their way to better than they had been.  And that wasn’t nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out! Thank you, all of you, for your feedback- I appreciate all of it immensely.

“Olives.  I tell you to include a vegetable, and you pick _olives_.”  Duke glared at Nathan, and Nathan shrugged and set the plate he’d put together for Duke down on the arm of the couch.

“You said you didn’t care what vegetable,” Nathan said, going back to the kitchen for his own plate.  “Besides, you like olives.”

“...That is not the point,” Duke said, but he was reaching for his food.  “Olives are a _fruit_ , not a vegetable.  And I meant something that had a higher nutrient to oil content, here, it’s a _pizza_ , it didn’t need help with the oil content-”

“You’ve been harping on me all week about not eating enough, I order something with calories and now I’m getting a lecture on oil content?” Nathan asked, and Duke blinked and went quiet.  “You like olives.  I like olives.  Olives seemed like a reasonable choice.”

“...Fine,” Duke said, yielding, and Nathan was pretty sure it had more to do with his first point than his second.  Though really, Nathan thought the fact that it was something they both actually liked should probably be a reasonable factor when it came to meals that they _shared_.

He was pretty sure Duke was complaining just to complain, at this point.  He’d _settled_ , if not completely relaxed, and he was being reasonably compliant about icing his various bruises, but he wouldn’t be Duke if he didn’t find _something_ to whine about, just to hear himself talk.

Nathan wondered if there was a reason for _that_ , too, that he’d never clued into.  Tried to shake the thought, because dwelling was only going to make this worse.  Duke didn’t want an apology, had made that clear enough, and really, an apology wasn’t going to cut it, anyway.  There weren’t enough apologies in the world to make up for Nathan’s oversights.

And there wasn’t enough time to make up for them any other way.

Dwelling was only going to make this worse.

Nathan crossed back over to the couch, and stole the bottle of scotch that Duke had been making steady inroads on, taking a long drink himself and ignoring Duke’s sound of protest.

“Thief,” Duke said, shifting around so that they were pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, and Nathan gave him a vaguely suspicious look.  He wasn’t sure how warm or cold it was in the room, after all, and Duke was still underdressed- it was entirely possible he was _cold_ , and was just being too stubborn to do anything about it.

“You need anything?” Nathan asked, not that he actually expected Duke to admit it if he did.

“Other than my scotch back?  No,” Duke replied, rolling his eyes.  “Which you know, because that’s like the sixth time you’ve asked that in the last half an hour, and if you’re gonna be this solicitous _every_ time you punch me, it’s just going to teach me that provoking fights gets me rewarded, so cut it out.”

“Duke, if you could be trained _that_ easily-” Nathan started, before he thought better of it, and swallowed the rest of the sentence.  Duke gave him a curious, slightly wary look that shifted into a slow, wicked grin.

“Oh, now, that’s not nice, don’t leave me hanging, here.  If I could be _trained_ that easily, _what_ exactly?”

“Not whatever you’re thinking,” Nathan replied, pretty sure he was blushing.  “Because whatever it is, it’s probably incredibly inappropriate.”

“Really, that’s something you’re worried about?”  Duke’s grin had only gotten wider, and Nathan was pretty sure that if he didn’t head this off, the conversation was going to devolve into nothing but innuendo and Duke’s best attempts at finding something that would shock him.  Which would probably be horribly embarrassing- if educational.

“Eat your damn food,” Nathan said, shoving Duke with his shoulder, and Duke laughed- a low, easy sound that suggested that maybe Nathan shouldn’t give him the scotch back, that he’d had more than enough- and turned his attention back to his pizza.

“Fine, be that way.  Spoilsport.”

“Thought it was killjoy.”

“You are never gonna let that go, are you.”

“Nope.”

“And somehow, I still don’t regret it.”

They fell into a reasonably companionable silence, and Nathan tried not to let it bother him.  Tried not to let himself think too hard.  He knew, if he let himself, he’d spiral, he’d follow the lines of guilt and regret around and around and around, until he couldn’t see a way back out.

“You’re overthinking,” Duke said, and Nathan glanced at him, not entirely sure what had given it away.  Not entirely sure anything _needed_ to give it away.  “I told you.  We’re good.”

“How can you just... do that?”  Nathan asked, because he’d _seen_ the anger, the disappointment, the hurt, all spelled out across Duke’s face.  And now, nothing- he was calm, he was able to joke, to laugh, he was still pressed close against Nathan’s side like he wanted to be there.

“...Practice,” Duke said, and it didn’t have the sarcastic edge Nathan would have expected from such an answer.  “And a careful application of violence.”

“The violence thing, that is a problem,” Nathan said, because he couldn’t let it go, couldn’t just pretend that he was okay with that.  It wasn’t who he wanted to be, and he was a little unnerved by how... calm Duke was about it.  Wasn’t sure he liked that Duke could, apparently, push him that easily- nor that Duke had seemed so confident in the outcome.  Nathan might not be able to gain super-strength from a drop of blood, but that didn’t mean the situation couldn’t get out of hand.  Nathan _could_ actually hurt him.

Nor was he entirely comfortable with Duke using violence as a crutch, given that he _could_ trigger his Trouble that way.  Wondered, briefly, if that had been a factor; dismissed the thought uneasily, because Duke had been careful, had avoided doing much in the way of real damage to Nathan at all.  Certainly hadn’t made him bleed, and Nathan was pretty sure Duke had actually deflected a couple of hits that _might_ have resulted in Nathan damaging his hands.

Or maybe Duke just hadn’t wanted his lips split again, that was also a possibility.  Still.

“Do we really have to have this conversation again?  I only had two options, there, and fighting was preferable to taking off for a few hours to process.  Unless you would have preferred that I took off, and left you here on your own?”

“ _No_ ,” Nathan said sharply, too sharply, panic surging beneath the surface of his thoughts.  If Duke had walked away from him, then, if he’d _left_ -

-Nathan would stop complaining about the fight.  It wasn’t healthy, it was something they _would_ have to work on, but he’d stop complaining until they had a better mechanism.  One that didn’t involve distance and time.

Unreasonable expectation or not.

“I didn’t think so,” Duke said, shifting insistently until Nathan moved his arm, and ducking beneath it- leaving Nathan very little choice but to drape his arm over Duke’s shoulders.  Nathan wasn’t sure which of them it was meant to benefit- or maybe it was for both of them.  Maybe he wasn’t the only one feeling needy and clingy, wasn’t the only one still off-balance in the wake of their careful truce coming temporarily undone.  “...But fine.  We’ll try not to go there again.”

It wasn’t much, didn’t sound like a promise, didn’t sound like Duke had much faith in their ability to manage, but it was something.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, well.  If you’re gonna be squeamish about it...”

“Squeamish, really?”

“We are going to have to talk about that other thing,” Duke said, sounding cautious, sounding like he was bracing for another fight.

“What other thing?”

“The we can’t actually be permanently attached at the hip thing.”  Nathan clenched his teeth, and shifted, met resistance- Duke had grabbed his wrist, was holding him in place.  Was keeping him as close, physically, as he could.

“I know we can’t-” he started, and he could hear the tremor in his voice, hated it, hated that it had been a week and he was still this _needy_.  That the panic hadn’t faded, that the sense that it could all go up in smoke hadn’t settled.

“Yeah, see, knowing and dealing, not exactly the same thing,” Duke replied, voice carefully neutral, absent any sympathy or amusement, absent any judgement at all.  “And I’m not saying, like, total return to normal, here, but we need to start addressing the topic.”

“ _Now_?” Nathan asked, because the day had already been stressful, had already been painful.  Nathan’s nerves were already frayed.

“Now,” Duke said.  “No better time.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because we already screwed up tonight, might as well roll with it.  Better than having a day that would’ve ended on a high note get tanked.”  Duke shrugged, and Nathan wasn’t really sure he followed that logic, but that might just be because he _didn’t want_ to deal with this.

“Look, this is working-”

“Nathan.”  The word was quiet, but not as calm, a hint of emotion creeping back in, frustration or sympathy or just exasperation.  “It’s working _now_ , sure- for a certain value of ‘working’.  If we ignore the fact that my truck is still in the parking lot at the Gull, where I haven’t been for three days.  If we ignore the fact that you start to hyperventilate when the idea even gets floated- and _yes_ , I saw that earlier, why do you think I let Dwight back on my boat, last time he was on my boat he was trying to _rob_ me- but this isn’t sustainable.”  Duke paused, set his plate aside and took Nathan’s out of his hand so that he could turn around, so that he could straddle Nathan’s lap and pin him in place on the couch, expression serious and focused and _responsible_ in a way that was still decidedly unsettling, still unexpected.  Nathan wondered, briefly, how often Audrey had seen this side of him.  Wondered how often he _should_ have seen this side of him.  “Sooner or later, _something_ is going to come up, and one of us is going to _have_ to be in a different place than the other, and it won’t be something we can mitigate with patience or creative hosting.  And I’d rather not have to worry that it’s gonna happen in a life or death kind of situation before we’ve actually worked on it.  Because let’s face it- sooner or later, it’s gonna happen in a life or death kind of situation, our luck just isn’t running any other way.”

“I don’t...” Nathan started, but what could he say to that?  He didn’t have a rational argument.  He _knew_ he didn’t have a rational argument.  Reflexively, he put his hands on Duke’s hips, holding on, clutching, and Duke dropped his head, looked up at him through his lashes- and that should not be possible, given the angles involved, he had no idea how Duke could _do_ that- and smiled at him, faint and reassuring.

“I know.  I know you don’t want to think about it.  I know you don’t want to deal with it.  But how much worse is it gonna suck if one of us being somewhere could have helped somebody, could have _saved_ somebody, and we couldn’t get our shit together enough to make it happen?”  And that wasn’t subtle, Duke’s use of ‘we’ instead of ‘you’, but Nathan appreciated it, all the same.  “More to the point, I don’t want to have to worry that you might get hurt because of this.  You want me to be careful, yeah?  I want to know you can react, if you have to.”

“This is stupid, we shouldn’t even have to _have_ this conversation,” Nathan said, frustrated, and Duke laughed.

“Yeah, well, at some point our lives went to a weird place, and you know what, I think ‘repeatedly screwed over by the universe’ is a pretty good reason to be a little jumpy,” he said.  “Don’t think anybody’s in a position to judge, here.”  He paused, considered for a second, and added, looking genuinely concerned, “You know I get it, right?  I’m not mocking, here, I get it, I’m taking this seriously?”

“Easier to believe you were taking it seriously if you weren’t in my lap, in your underwear,” Nathan pointed out, because he didn’t want to admit that he needed the reassurance.  Didn’t want to admit that he was grateful for it, that Duke being serious and thoughtful was important, because at least one of them didn’t think he was _broken_.

“Hey, do not change the subject,” Duke replied, reaching out and catching Nathan’s chin, making eye contact rather mandatory.  “Look, it’s- I _get it_.  It’s not just the Barn, right?  It’s- it’s your dad, it’s James, it’s Claire, it’s Eleanor and it’s everybody else you think you couldn’t save.  I _know_.  I _know_ , Nathan.  Because it’s Evi and it’s _Jean_ and it’s Vanessa and it’s Jeff and it’s the _god_ _damn_ Barn and it’s not simple.  We don’t get _simple_ anymore.”  Nathan tried not to flinch, tried to keep his eyes on Duke’s, tried to _listen_ instead of just hearing, because this clearly wasn’t any easier for Duke than it was for Nathan, and he hadn’t let himself think about it that way.  Hadn’t let himself focus on more than just the immediate problems, the immediate losses, but it _wasn’t_ just the Barn.  Wasn’t just Audrey.  Wasn’t just Duke.  It was _everything_ , and the weight of it was _crushing_.  And it wasn’t any easier to hear that maybe Duke wasn’t just saying ‘we’ to cover for Nathan’s failings.  That he might get it because he was _living_ it, that most of those losses were a lot closer in Duke’s memory than in Nathan’s- Nathan had had six extra months to grieve, to rage, to lose himself.  Duke was still jetlagged from last November, and both of those lists were incomplete.

“So you’re holding on to what you think is all you have left because you can’t lose anything else,” Duke continued, and Nathan was pretty sure, given the faint change in angles that he could barely see at the edges of his peripheral vision, that Duke had squeezed his chin, had tightened his hold.  That Duke might be holding on just as hard as Nathan was, and for much the same reason.  “You’re holding on with _everything_ you’ve got, and damn the consequences.  But I need you to listen, here, Nate- you’ve got more than you think.  And what you’ve got isn’t going anywhere.”

“You didn’t used to be this philosophical,” Nathan said, because he wasn’t good at this.  He was Garland Wuornos’s son; talking about _feelings_ had been something to be avoided, something actively discouraged from the time his mother had died.  He’d been raised to keep his issues out of sight, to put on a competent air and pretend nothing could shake him.  He’d been more open with Duke in the last week than he’d been with anyone besides Audrey in- well.  Ever.  And Duke was still asking for more, was pushing him to acknowledge things he hadn’t wanted to admit to _himself_.

“And you have always been too stubborn for your own damn good.  Don’t stonewall me here, Nate,” Duke said, tone getting a little sharp.

“What do you want from me, Duke?”

“A little acknowledgement that I’m trying to do that sharing thing that people are big on these days would be nice,” Duke replied, snippy, before he sighed and rolled his eyes, releasing his grip on Nathan’s chin.  Nathan felt a little guilty at that, because Duke _had_ just opened up, and it couldn’t be any less unpleasant for Duke than it was for Nathan- Duke with his hundred different versions of a ‘fuck off, not your business’ smile, with his well-trained deflections and ruthless redirections.  “But I clearly forgot who I was talking to.”

“Sorry,” Nathan offered, wincing at the awkwardness of the word.

“Less apologizing, more being helpful, please,” Duke said, but the sharp edge in his voice was gone, replaced with something that could almost be fondness.  “Look, Nate-”

“It’s more than the Barn,” Nathan said, cutting him off, speaking quickly- if he could get it out in a rush, maybe it wouldn’t be so damn hard.  “And I don’t know how to- to keep moving.  To keep my head above water.”

“I’m not gonna let you drown, Nate,” Duke said, quietly, and Nathan wanted to believe that.  Wanted to take the reassurance on offer, the lifeline Duke had thrown him, and just- _rest_.  And he shouldn’t, Duke had his own burdens to carry and his own ocean to fight, but Nathan was _tired_.  He was tired of all of it, tired of the grief and the fear and the anger and the responsibility, tired of his inability to predict his own moods, how they swung so sharply that he didn’t know up from down more often than not, tired of _all of it_.

He was so damn tired of drowning.

“Okay,” he said, the word rough and raspy.  Duke watched him carefully, watched him the way he was always watching, eyes full of shadows and suspicion and something softer, something that Nathan shied away from identifying, and Duke nodded, like Nathan’s single word meant something.

“Okay,” Duke answered, leaning in and taking a kiss like he was leaving a promise.  “We’re gonna pick up the truck tomorrow, okay?  Little steps.”

“...Okay.”  The thought still brought a rush of fear, still made his breathing stutter, but Duke leaned in again, kissed him with purpose, and that was hard to ignore.  Nathan dragged his hands up, along Duke’s sides, winning a few harsh, heated sounds as his fingers dug in here and there, as he moved until he could tangle his fingers in the loose curls at the nape of Duke’s neck with one hand and cup his jaw with the other.  Duke shifted in his lap, his hands on Nathan’s shoulders, or maybe behind his neck, Nathan couldn’t actually tell, didn’t particularly care so long as Duke wasn’t trying to push away from him.

Nathan broke the kiss to drag his lips over Duke’s throat, smelling and tasting, and Duke chuckled, tilted his head back in invitation- one Nathan was all too happy to accept, finding a spot and biting down carefully.  Duke gasped in a breath, growled it out around a curse, and shifted again, and Nathan could see his pulse leaping just beneath his skin, just above where he’d bitten.

...Hell with dinner.  It was pizza, it would keep a while yet.

Nathan let go, braced his hands on Duke’s shoulders and pushed him back, just a bit.

“Bedroom,” he instructed, and Duke shimmied out of his lap with way more movement than necessary, standing up and pulling Nathan up with him, backing towards the bedroom so that _he_ didn’t have to let go, one hand tangled in the collar of Nathan’s shirt.  Nathan reached out and caught Duke by the hip as he followed, gripping tight, and Duke laughed again, low and intense and Nathan wasn’t sure what was funny, didn’t really want to know.  Didn’t care; they were headed where he wanted to go, and whatever was amusing Duke wasn’t deterring him from that goal, and that was all he was worried about right then.

Nathan backed Duke up against the bed, gave him a quick shove that sent him sprawling out, and stripped his shirt off with more force than necessary; he was pretty sure he heard a seam pop, but he could worry about it later.  Duke had gotten rid of his boxers before Nathan had even gotten his shirt over his head- he was _incredibly_ efficient about getting naked, it was kind of impressive.  Nathan had to fight with his belt, with the button on his jeans, because both were more stubborn the more of a hurry he was in, the fine movements required always seeming so much more difficult to his numb fingers when there was some level of _urgency_ involved.

When he’d _finally_ managed to get rid of his damn pants- and he was starting to see the wisdom in Duke’s boxers-only clothing choice, it was a hell of a lot more convenient than what Nathan was doing- Duke was already tossing the bottle of lube back at the drawer, apparently well aware of how unwilling Nathan was to _wait_ , right now.  That, or he was just as damn eager, that was also a very likely possibility.

Duke dragged Nathan down, kissed him with enough force that Nathan _knew_ it, hard enough that it probably hurt.  Hard enough that Nathan pulled back, because he had to, because he couldn’t afford a split lip right now- Duke made a sound of annoyance, and Nathan shifted his attention back to Duke’s throat, which was a much safer target, and had the pleasant side effect of making Duke give a needy little whine that Nathan would have teased him about if it wasn’t so goddamn hot to hear.  Nathan had learned quickly that Duke was _demanding_ in bed, that he would not tolerate Nathan’s attention appearing to wander for even a moment, that he would curse and whine and throw his weight around to get what he wanted- it was a thrill, it was a damn _drug_ , how pushy he was.  How easily he seemed to compensate for the fact that Nathan was working at a significant disadvantage in this arena.  For all the cruel taunts he’d thrown Nathan’s way over the years, he had managed to adapt so thoroughly that there were brief moments when Nathan could forget that there _was_ something missing.

He’d never imagined that was _possible_.  Let alone that it’d be _Duke_ , of all people, who could get that response.

“Stop fucking around, damnit,” Duke growled, and a wobble in his vision suggested that Duke had pulled his hair, trying to get him to move.  “Either roll the fuck over and let me drive, or-”

Nathan cut him off with a kiss, because he was not in anything remotely resembling the mood to lie back and let Duke take charge; fascinating as that generally was- Duke’s ability to move and flex and keep his damn balance was almost enough to make Nathan _admit_ that there might be something to his yoga routine- it wasn’t what Nathan wanted just then.  Wasn’t anything close to what he wanted.  He pulled back enough to take hold of Duke’s hips, angling them up, and Duke shifted, making the movement easier, bracing himself so that Nathan could pay enough attention to what he was doing to do it _right_ , and Nathan drove forward, earning a breathless ‘ _fuck yes_ ’ and a decidedly visible shiver.  Nathan took another kiss, but kept it brief; positioned as they were, he didn’t want to keep Duke from talking for any length of time, because he couldn’t focus on sight quite as effectively this way.

“Fuck, _Nate_ , yes-” Duke bit the words out, sharp and aggressive, as he moved, hands fisting in the bedsheets, knuckles white.  Nathan caught one of his wrists, circled it with his fingertips as he pulled it up along the sheet so he could pin it down at slightly above shoulder height; repeated the effort with the other, until he had Duke pinned, hands trapped.  Duke twisted his wrists, testing Nathan’s grip, and Nathan pressed down, squeezed harder, kept control, and Duke’s curses got more creative, his sounds more eager- there was an edge to his voice that was new, hot and just a little frantic.

...There was a very real chance that Nathan was not going to be able to hold onto his resolve about not playing with the handcuffs, if this was how Duke responded to being restrained.  Fortunately, they were currently out of reach.

“Goddamnit, Nate, _move_ ,” Duke demanded, bucking his hips, and Nathan moved, attention locked on Duke’s expression, watching for cues, for an idea of how he should be moving, whether he needed to back off or not- it was still challenging, trying to guess force and angles, trying to judge purely from how Duke responded whether it was too much or not enough.  Duke arched up, moved and twisted, breathing hard, eyes nearly closed- what glimpses Nathan could get of color were _dark_ , his pupils blown wide.  “Harder, damnit, _please_ -”

Nathan was too happy to comply, was rewarded with more curses, more pleas, more _demands_ , and he did his best to answer them, his own sense of _urgency_ building, and he tightened his grip on Duke’s wrists, a sweeping sense of _possessiveness_ rolling through him.  Duke bucked in response, a desperate, throaty sound escaping parted lips, and Nathan was fairly sure he could watch Duke like this for _hours_ and not have enough.

Duke urged him on, a constant stream of _faster_ and _harder_ and _more, damnit_ filling the spaces between eager sounds and wicked movements, and Nathan obliged, rolled straight through the blinding white rush of giddy satisfaction that was his own peak, until Duke gave a last, too-loud curse and went still and quiet and _relaxed_.

Nathan moved carefully, shifted to lie down next to Duke, pretty sure he needed to catch his breath just as much as Duke did, and Duke hissed out a breath and brought his hands together, rubbing his wrists each in turn.  Nathan made a questioning sound, concerned, and Duke waved dismissively.

“Just getting circulation back,” he said, and Nathan nudged him sharply with his knee.

“That’s the sort of thing you should actually _tell me_ ,” he said, and Duke gave him another dismissive wave.

“I would have if it was a problem,” he said, still flexing his hands and rubbing his wrists.  “Wasn’t a problem.”

Nathan wasn’t sure he believed that, wasn’t sure he liked the precedent that could set, but he didn’t want to argue.  Didn’t want another fight, when his thoughts were still cloudy with endorphins.

“Shower?” he asked, after a minute, and Duke nodded.

“Yeah, and then you are actually going to eat,” he replied, and Nathan sighed and didn’t argue.

**  
**When they were clean and sort of dressed, they settled back out on the couch, abandoned meals reheated and reclaimed.  Nathan was keeping a careful eye on Duke, who was moving a little more stiffly than Nathan would have preferred; Duke was comfortably ignoring Nathan’s concern, looking entirely too pleased with himself for someone with a black eye and bruises like rings around his wrists. **  
**

Nathan wasn’t sure how to reconcile Duke’s complete lack of concern about being _injured_ with the driven, focused way he attended to nutrition and exercise- couldn’t quite make sense of how he could _not care_ about one aspect of his physical well-being and _definitely_ care about others.  It bothered him.  And it wasn’t just the bruises- Nathan hadn’t realized how much Duke drank, until he’d started living with him.  And it was starting to set in that Duke was generally about as close to a bottle as he was to a gun.

...Maybe he was overthinking it.  He wasn’t exactly a poster child for healthy coping mechanisms, himself, and he was the last person who had room to _criticize_ when it came to health and safety, or drinking.  He had to assume that Duke at least knew his own limits.

He hoped.

“You know...” Duke said, the words cautious, slow and thoughtful.  Nathan made a quiet sound of inquiry, encouraging him to continue the thought, glad for the distraction.  “We finish this, we do this _right_?  Nothing says we have to stay.  Here, I mean.  In Haven.”  

Nathan shifted, turning so that he could see him better, using the movement to disguise his reaction to that, to the confirmation of his earlier thoughts, the idea that Duke would _leave_ when this was done.  To cover for the flash of jealousy and rage and despair that he couldn’t afford to show, that would reveal too much.

“Yeah?” he asked, tone just as careful as Duke’s.

“We’ll be long past owing this town anything,” Duke said.  “Still have that list we made somewhere.  I never went to any of the places we put on it.”

“...List...?” Nathan asked, before he remembered.  “Wait, the one we made in...”

“High school, yeah,” Duke replied, not meeting Nathan’s eyes.  “Always kinda hoped we’d use it.”

“You traveled the world for _seven years_ , and you never went to any of the places you said you wanted to see?” Nathan asked, incredulous.

“Well, none of the specific ones.  There were a few _countries_ I couldn’t avoid, but the landmarks and shit, no, I never went.”

“Why the hell not?”

“You really going to make me say this out loud?” Duke asked, sounding pained, sounding embarrassed, and still avoiding any chance of eye contact.  “Because, it was _our_ list, not mine.  Wasn’t going to go without you.”

And wasn’t that a shock, that Duke was _sentimental_.  Really, really sentimental, apparently.  Sentimental enough to have held on to the list at all, and to have actively avoided going places he’d _wanted_ to see, for lack of the right company.

Nathan wanted to tease, wanted to mock, but he was pretty sure it’d be immensely hypocritical, given how oddly _content_ that information made him feel.  Maybe he was a little sentimental, too.  

Even if it _hurt_ , because there wasn’t a way to do this ‘right’, and Duke was never going to have the company he wanted for that trip.

“Thoughtful of you,” Nathan said, after a moment, and Duke glanced up, finally, just a quick flicker of his eyes in Nathan’s direction, wary and suspicious, but he seemed to decide that Nathan _wasn’t_ actually about to taunt him, and some of the strain bled out of his shoulders.

“Yeah, well, I’m a thoughtful guy.”  The words were flippant, easy, clearly meant to direct attention away from the momentary display of vulnerability.

“Know you are,” Nathan replied, absolutely serious.  Duke blinked, like he had  no idea what to do with that response, had no idea how to handle Nathan not letting him lighten the mood.

“...Thank you?”  Duke sounded uncertain, sounded wary.

“Finish your dinner,” Nathan said, relenting.  Sincerity might still be something they had to work on.

That list was starting to get very, very long.  Nathan wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that, wasn’t entirely sure why he was storing things up to work on, when this wasn’t long term, wasn’t permanent.  Wasn’t sure if it was denial or just... wanting to fix as much as he could, before he was out of time.

Maybe Audrey would benefit from some of it.

The thought was _not_ as comforting as he’d wanted it to be.

After an uncomfortably long silence, Duke began to talk, apparently just to fill the space- Nathan listened, appreciating the effort, and that Duke was apparently taking him seriously about telling him more about the seven years he’d been gone.  It was some frankly outrageous story about a cockfighting ring in Callao, complete with bad bets, narrow escapes, and a daring (and _completely ridiculous_ ) poultry rescue.  Nathan didn’t believe a word of it- well, no, he believed that at one point Duke had probably _been_ to Callao, but that was about as far as his credulity stretched- but it was entertaining, and Duke relaxed as he spoke, getting more and more animated and enthusiastic, until Nathan was laughing and occasionally handing him something to use as a prop, and Duke was grinning and gesturing wildly with his hands and whatever he was holding at any given moment.

“And _that_ is why I can never go back to Callao,” Duke finished, flopping back onto the couch eventually, bright-eyed and smirking, and Nathan shook his head.

“I do not believe a _word_ of that,” he said, grinning, and Duke laughed.

“You know, that is the second time today someone has said that about that story, I _knew_ I should have kept those photos, I swear, every word is true.”

“I’m not sure I’d believe it even if you _did_ have photos,” Nathan replied, nudging Duke with his foot.  “I do not believe you spent seven years crusading for the rights of chickens, no, sorry.”

“Not the _whole_ seven years, Jesus, of course not, but that _week_ , I damn well did,” Duke defended, still amused.  “I mean, raising ‘em to eat, no big, but raising them to fight crosses a line.  Maybe if you ask nicely, tomorrow I’ll tell you about the lions, _that_ was a fucking trip.”

“The _what_?”

“Lions.  You know, big cats, native to Africa, you will not _believe_ what it took to get _them_ to behave.”

“Okay, no, tell me about the lions.”

“Tomorrow,” Duke replied, smirking, and Nathan nudged him again.

“Tease,” he complained, and Duke grinned, slow and amused.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, and Nathan just shook his head.  He wasn’t actually sure he didn’t mean it that way to begin with.  “You done?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we should pack up.”

“When did it get late?” Nathan asked, glancing at the clock, and frowning.  It _had_ gotten late.

“Somewhere between me starting to cook dinner and you having to reheat the pizza you ordered, probably,” Duke replied, amused, and he got to his feet, grabbing their plates.  Nathan followed, taking the dishes away from him and taking them to the sink, and Duke rolled his eyes, but didn’t object.

When they had finished cleaning up and getting ready for bed, Nathan stretched out on his side of the mattress, as had been the pattern for the last few nights, a flicker of nervousness making itself felt.  Things _seemed_ to be better, after earlier, but there was still some lingering trace of concern, some expectation of rejection.

As had been the pattern, however, Duke reached over and pulled Nathan closer, dragged him near enough that Nathan could wrap an arm around him.  Nathan folded in around him, reassured by the silent, comfortable invitation.  Duke shifted around a bit until he found a position he liked, and dropped off to sleep with an easy suddenness that Nathan envied, and Nathan let himself relax, let himself concentrate on the quiet rhythm of Duke breathing.  Let himself drift into a place where there was nothing he had to worry about, nothing he had to focus on, except that.

He fell asleep faster than he had in months.


	8. Chapter 8

Duke woke up _comfortable_.  Nathan was pressed up against him, warm and close and asleep, one arm around him in an unmistakably possessive way, breathing quietly against the skin of his neck.  Duke _liked_ waking up like this, liked that this was, somehow, _normal_ now, that he’d woken up like this for the last six mornings in a row.  He felt _good_.  Warm and relaxed and buzzing-in-his-skin good.

So he was not happy, at all, when he heard the very loud sound of someone dropping a heavy metal cover-plate onto the deck outside.  He did not want to get up and deal with whoever was fucking around with _his boat_ , he did not want to _move_ , he was _comfortable_.

So as he scrambled up, searching for pants and a gun- and the pants were honestly optional- he was, suffice it to say, fairly livid.

“What-” Nathan started, already moving as well.

“Someone’s on board,” Duke replied, dragging on the first pair of jeans that came to hand, and retrieving a shotgun from behind the bedside table.  Nathan was on his feet, also scrambling for clothes, and Duke didn’t wait; he headed out, furious and defensive, because _nobody fucked with his boat_.

“Be _careful_ , damnit just _wait a second_ -” Nathan hissed out, the words an order, and Duke ignored him, because Nathan would catch up, but there were a hundred different things Duke could think of that would take only a few moments to do but that could result in serious problems, and-

-and none of them were Beatty, standing easily on the deck, overseeing a harbor crew hooking up hoses and pumps to  the waste and water tanks.

“... The hell?” he managed, blinking, and Beatty turned, caught sight of him, and her expression turned _shocked_ , the color draining out of her, eyes going wide, and Duke very quickly pointed the gun elsewhere.  “Beatty, what the hell are you doing here?”

“...Duke?”  Her voice shook, and it occurred to Duke that he hadn’t actually _seen_ her since getting back into town, so maybe shock was reasonable, actually.

“Yeah.  Hi, Beatty, how-”

Shock was reasonable, but he hadn’t been prepared for hugging.  Particularly hugging with _force_ , and okay, that actually hurt.  Still, he put an arm around her, hugged back, because as weird and strange as things had gotten after the Helena thing, he’d still always gotten along okay with Beatty, had known what rules he could break and she’d overlook, had known what gifts to drop by her office when he needed a favor.  And awkward or not, they did have a _kid_ out there somewhere, and it was confusing and painful, but some part of him couldn’t let that go completely, couldn’t help but feel some vague sense of responsibility to Beatty, even if he couldn’t be there for Jean.

“Duke?”  Nathan sounded annoyed and confused and borderline dangerous, and Beatty abruptly let Duke go, and took a few steps back.

“Nathan?” she said, and her tone was sharp.  “You son of a gun, when the hell did you get back?”

“...Hey, Beatty.  Sorry, just- a couple days, I-”

“And you didn’t think to let anyone know?” Beatty snapped, before turning back to Duke.  “And _you_ , where the _hell_ have you been?  We all heard you were _dead_.”

“Not dead,” Duke said, taking a step back, a little closer to Nathan, who was looking just as surprised as he felt at having been _scolded_.  “And honestly, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you where I was, so let’s just- not.  What are you _doing_ here, Beatty?”

“What?  Oh, it’s Friday, I have a crew come by every Friday morning, you think that brother of yours has the faintest idea how to keep this rig up?  I happened to pass by a few weeks after he came into town, and he’d run the water tanks completely dry, and I’m not even going to mention the mess with the waste tanks.  Had my gents here in a few times to patch things up, here and there, as well.  I don’t mean to be critical, but I’d make sure you give the Rouge a good thorough going over before you try and take her out of this slip, you hear me?”  Beatty looked exasperated, and Duke nodded, surprised that she’d bothered.  It wasn’t her job to make sure inexperienced city people who inherited boats took care of them properly, she had an entire harbor to manage.  And yet she’d still taken the time to keep the Rouge in shape, as much as she could.

“...Thank you,” he said, and he meant it.

“Yeah, well, you’re family,” Beatty replied, looking only a little awkward about it.  “Makes that idiot city-boy brother of yours family too, but I am damn glad to see you back here.  She’s a good boat, she needs somebody who knows her to keep her put together.”

“She does at that.  Seriously, though, thank you for looking after her- and Wade.”  And honestly, Duke _should_ have checked the tanks first thing, should still go through and make sure he knew how he was set for fuel and other necessaries- he hadn’t thought about it, was still sort of struggling with the idea that it wasn’t just a week ago that he’d done regular upkeep.

“Figured it was... well.  Anyway.  Sorry about the early wake-up.  ...And speaking of, why...?”

“Nathan’s staying out here for now, his place is kinda a crime scene, someone took a shot at us first night we were back,” Duke said quickly- too quickly, maybe, because Beatty raised an eyebrow and looked them both over and clearly came to the correct conclusion.  Probably helped along by the fact that Nathan took a step forward, wrapped his arm around Duke’s waist, and pulled him close; Duke was going to have a little trouble getting used to that, getting used to the concept that Nathan really _wasn’t_ making any effort to hide this.  She looked amused, for a moment- and seriously, was _nobody_ surprised by this?   _Duke_ was still surprised by this, how was no one else surprised?- before the amusement faded away under a sympathetic frown.

“I’m not surprised to hear that, Nathan’s not exactly popular in certain corners right now,” she said.  “Which is why it would have been nice to _know you were here_ , I would have been paying closer attention to things.”

“Sorry,” Nathan said, again, shifting uncomfortably.  “Didn’t think about it when we first got back here, it was the middle of the night and we’d just come from the hospital-”

“Wait, you said someone took a shot _at_ you, not that they actually _hit_ ,” Beatty said, glancing between them.  “Who-”

“Me, but it’s fine,” Duke said, waving that off.  “Not even a mark left on me, we got traded a favor.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there’s more than a few marks on you both,” Beatty pointed out, glancing pointedly between various sets of bruises, and Duke laughed.

“Different problem.  You hear about the giant bugs a few days ago?”

“...No, I missed that one,” Beatty replied, with a look that clearly said ‘only in Haven’.

“Be glad.  Anyway, tangled with a spider, it was a thing, that’s all.  We fixed it, though, so there’s that.”  And that was a good enough excuse, even if most of his current marks had more to do with yesterday than the damn bugs.

“There’s that.  ...You two...  Are you staying in town?” Beatty asked, and Nathan nodded.

“Yeah.  I have to fix this, Beatty, I can’t...  I can’t leave things this way.”  Nathan sounded determined, and ashamed, and Duke leaned back into him, trying not to show the shiver of nerves that he still felt whenever Nathan talked about fixing things.  They didn’t have a plan, yet, didn’t have a better option.  Didn’t really even know where to start looking for one.

“Never figured you could,” Beatty replied, sighing.  “Just... be careful.  Things have been bad.”

“So we’ve been told,” Duke replied, frowning.  He didn’t like how frequently they were getting that message, in point of fact, because it was always followed by the implication that he and Nathan being back was going to _change_ that, and Duke didn’t see how that was going to happen.

“And so you’ll be told again, I’m sure,” Beatty said, a note of matronly chiding in her voice.  “Watch your backs.  I don’t want to go to your funeral a second time, Crocker, it’s too stressful and the babies aren’t any good at staying quiet.”

“Wait, there was a funeral?” Duke asked, morbidly curious, and Beatty gave him a look of pure disbelief.

“Of course there was.”

Duke turned to Nathan, and glared.  “Why didn’t you tell me there was a funeral?  Was it any good?”

“I don’t know,” Nathan replied, and his expression was flat, was _gaunt_.  “Wasn’t there.”

“You skipped out on my _funeral_?” Duke asked, and he shouldn’t, Nathan was obviously not finding this funny at all, but Duke couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but ask.  Couldn’t help but draw a dark sort of amusement from the entire idea.

“I was still in the hospital,” Nathan replied, tone sharp, grip on Duke’s waist tightening, until Duke was pretty sure he was going to have yet another set of fingerprints branded into his hips, and he was going to have to start tucking his shirts in, at this rate, just to be sure nobody (see also, Wade) spotted them.  Which meant he was going to have to start remembering to grab a shirt even when he was in a hurry.  “I wasn’t given the option.”

“...Well that’s bullshit,” Duke said, any faint sting at the thought that Nathan hadn’t been there shifting into outrage on Nathan’s behalf.  “Next time I’ll leave explicit instructions, that’s just unacceptable.”

“How about you don’t make us bury you again, instead?” Beatty suggested, watching Nathan warily, and Duke grimaced, because yeah, no, he’d probably gone too far with that.  Should have known better, _did_ know better.

“Right.  Yeah, I- I prefer that plan, we’ll work with that,” Duke said, looking for a subject change, looking for a distraction, something to pull Nathan back to center.  Something to ease the trembling he could feel at every point where Nathan was pressed against him, and this was not actually a good start to a day he’d planned to reintroduce the concept of _distance_.  “You’ve got a good line on things, Beatty; how bad is _bad_ , exactly?”  ...Which was not likely to _improve_ the mood, but at least it was a slightly different topic.

“People turning on each other.  Lines being drawn.  People just... disappearing.  Some’ve left, but others...  Well.  Troubles breaking out here and there, and sometimes they linger, and sometimes they don’t, and no one talks about it, but some of them aren’t the type to just stop on their own.  And no one’s sure exactly who’s... making them stop, if it’s the police or what’s left of the Rev’s people, somebody new, or- there were a few weeks where people were sure that Nathan’s story about you going into the Barn after Audrey was him covering for you going dark side, Duke, and let me tell you _that_ was a fun ride.”  Beatty laughed, and it wasn’t a good sound.  Duke kept his expression neutral by force of will, but Nathan’s grip tightened further, and he looked _pissed_.  Duke wondered if he’d known about that rumor, or if he was just now hearing about it.  Also wondered how anyone could _possibly_ have believed the idea that Nathan would’ve _lied_ to protect him, if he’d gone that route.  It was ridiculous; Duke was damn well aware of the fact that Nathan would be one of the first to try and take him down, if it got to that point.  “People don’t trust each other.  People are splitting off into groups, looking after their own and screw everybody else.”

“...I hate this town,” Duke said, with a tight smile, and Nathan pressed a kiss to his shoulder, reassuring or warning or just tactile comfort, and it _really_ didn’t help.  “So we’ve got different groups with different agendas, and they’re, what, picking fights with each other?”

“Pretty much.  Nobody filled you in on this yet?”

“Dwight didn’t mention this, no,” Nathan said, and he sounded pissed about that.  Duke didn’t blame him; he was going to have a few choice words for Dwight himself, later.  This was serious, and not giving them a goddamn _warning_ was bullshit.

“Can’t say I’m surprised, really, he probably figured you two showing back up would settle things down.  He might even be right about that, old man Paxton down at the supermarket was almost civil yesterday, and he’s one of the few folks who never denied being part of the Rev’s crowd.”

“How?” Duke asked, confused and annoyed.  “See, that is what I am not getting, people keep saying that us being back will _help_ , but _how_?”  Half the town hated him.  Half the town now seemed to hate Nathan just as much.  How was anyone expecting them _coming back_ to settle anything down, when between them they had about a one hundred percent chance of running into people who wanted one or both of them dead?

“Well, because,” Beatty replied, as though this should be obvious.  “We were all a little surprised when Nathan ran-” and Duke could feel Nathan flinch, and leaned back into him, trying to steady him, “-but I don’t think anyone expected that’d last- even the folks that hate his guts all _knew_ he wasn’t going to leave us on our own for long.  Everyone knew he’d come back, sooner or later.  You, though, for _you_ to come back?  Means that thing about the Barn might be true, for starters, and maybe we stand a chance of getting Audrey back, too.  And for second...   You don’t have any damn reason to be here unless you think there’s a chance to fix this, why risk your skin in this town if you don’t see an out?  The _both_ of you being back, that means there’s hope.”

“...I own property here,” Duke replied, mostly for argument’s sake, and to buy himself a minute to put _that_ logic into some kind of mental framework.  “...So does Nathan, for that matter.”

“Don’t be difficult,” Beatty replied, frowning at him.  “If you two are here, it means that maybe there’s a chance, again.  Maybe there’s a chance everything’ll go back to the way it was.”

“Wait, so- you’re telling me that the reason everyone I talk to seems to think I’m one half of, of   _Team Savior_ , or whatever, here, is because I’m _too selfish_ to be here if I wasn’t?” Duke asked, and he wasn’t sure if he found that immensely reassuring, in that people hadn’t suddenly forgotten who he was, or vaguely insulting.

“You didn’t exactly cultivate a reputation for altruism,” Beatty replied, dryly.  “Leastaways, not with people you weren’t close to.”

“I didn’t cultivate a reputation for altruism even _with_ the people I was close to,” Duke countered, frowning.

“Don’t pretend those ‘donations’ for the kids didn’t come from you,” Beatty said, raising an eyebrow, “I am not that slow.”

“I- that-”

“Your relative level of altruism is really not the point here, Duke,” Nathan said, sounding vaguely amused, which was a hell of a lot better than despairing or furious, which is where things _had_ been trending, so that was good, even if Duke would have preferred that Beatty not bring up the stuff he’d put together for her kids.  His little bit of penance, for not being able to do anything for Jean.

“Right, yes, we were discussing important things, fate of the town and all that.”

“We think there’s a chance we can get Audrey back.  That we can- find a way to fix things,” Nathan said, and Beatty nodded.

“Well, good, things are challenging enough without people practically declaring colors.  If you can get her back, if you can fix this, you’re going to be preventing a lot of suffering.”

“Right,” Duke said, stomach twisting.  He did not like this, did not like this at all.  Particularly because he knew very well that Nathan was going to take that as a sacred obligation.  That Nathan already felt the weight of every person who had been so much as moderately inconvenienced by the continued existence of the Troubles, and they still didn’t actually _have_ a plan besides literal human sacrifice, and Duke was not on board with that option.

Was _never_ gonna be on board with that option, not as long as it was Nate’s life on the line.

“Listen, Beatty- can you do us a favor?” Nathan asked, voice low.  “You’ve got contacts outside the department, you talk to people all up and down the coast.  Can you keep an ear out, let us know if you hear anything about anyone who might even _resemble_ Audrey?”

“Course I can.  I’ll put everything I can spare into it.”  She frowned, and shook her head.  “You boys’ll need all the help you can get, I think.  You might want to remember that you _do_ still have friends in this town, and that they can do a lot more for you if you _tell them you’re around_.”

“We’re sorry, we’re sorry, jeeze, it’s been a busy week,” Duke said, a little defensive.  “There was the shooting, the bugs, the earthquakes, I mean, we haven’t exactly just been slacking off, here.  And that’s just _his_ job, I’ve got two of my own that I’m trying to put back in order.”

“That’s no excuse,” Beatty replied, reaching out and lightly cuffing him upside the head.  “Call your friends, kid, you owe them that.”

“I’ll get right on that,” Duke said, though honestly, he wasn’t exactly sure who he was supposed to be calling.  Nathan, obviously, knew he was okay.  Wade knew, most of the staff at the Gull knew.  He should definitely call Bill and Meg- yeah, actually, _wow_ , he needed to call Bill, Bill had had a rough year- but it wouldn’t have occurred to him that Beatty might’ve missed him, might’ve cared to know he was okay.  Honestly wasn’t sure who else _might_.

“You gonna be okay taking over maintenance again?  ‘Cause I got better things these people could be doing than keeping this raft of yours floating,” Beatty said, glancing over at the work crew, a handful of whom had clustered together and were talking in a way that Duke immediately recognized as ‘attempting to be inconspicuous while actively pointing’, which suggested that their current topic of conversation was _them_.

“Yeah, no, I’ll handle things, if I’d known you were taking care of things instead of Wade, I’d have called right off.  Sorry about that, seriously.”

“Yeah, well.  ‘Least I got to say hello.  You two, you _keep me in the loop_ , you hear?  I can help, if you let me.”

“You sure you want to- to get involved?” Nathan asked, looking concerned.  “You have Benny and Alexa to think about.”

“I _am_ thinking about them,” Beatty replied, expression serious.  “Damnit, Nathan, Benny’s father may have been Troubled, you remember he had the damn tattoo-” she leaned in, and dropped her voice, and Duke wondered when she’d learned about the Guard, _how_ she’d learned about the Guard, wondered how many of Haven’s long-kept secrets had exploded out into the open in the wake of the Barn’s collapse and how much that was going to come back to bite them in the ass, “-means he might’ve been one of Vince’s boys, and Alexa and Jean-” Beatty’s voice trembled, then firmed.  “Well.  I don’t want them having to lock themselves up once a week once they grow up.  If I can help...”

“We’ll keep you in the loop,” Duke promised, because Beatty had the right to know what was happening.  Had the right to try and protect her kids, if she could.

He understood the urge.  Wished he didn’t.  Didn’t want to think about it.

Should probably check his email, actually, find out if there was anything from Royes, he hadn’t even considered the mess his ‘death’ might have made outside of the borders of Haven.  It’d been months.  Christ, that was still tripping him up.

“I appreciate that.  ...You two should go back inside, it’s early yet.  I’ll make sure this is done right, and then she’s back in your charge.”

“You always here this early?” Nathan asked, looking considering, and Beatty nodded, with a smile that was only a little chagrined.

“Made a point of it, actually,” she said, and Nathan chuckled.

“What’d Wade say?” Nathan asked, with a wry smile.

“He may have said something less than complimentary about boats in general, and the Cape Rouge in specific, and I may have taken it a little personally,” Beatty replied, shrugging.  “It’s maybe a little petty, but if he wasn’t going to be bothered to _learn_ how to take care of her, I felt no need to be polite.”  Nathan looked far too amused by that, and Duke elbowed him, not that it was gonna do anything.

“Hey, that’s my brother whose misfortune you’re smirking at,” Duke reminded him.

“Your brother is a piece of work,” Beatty scoffed.  “Doesn’t have a lick of your charm.”

“Yes, well, he’s an investment trader, he works with numbers and money, not people,” Duke replied, not sure how else to reply to that.

“Not an excuse,” Beatty replied, and Nathan still looked far too amused.

“Yes, okay, fine, I get it, Wade’s not the most likeable guy, but he’s _still_ my brother,” Duke said, “And likeable or not, he’s a decent guy.”

“If you say so,” Beatty replied, and Nathan actually snickered, _actually snickered_ , and Duke turned enough to direct a disbelieving stare at him.

“Are you kidding me right now?  Seriously?  That isn’t funny,” he said, and Nathan did not look sorry at all.

“I am not going to apologize, Wade’s practically been ready to take a swing at me every time we’ve talked,” Nathan replied.

“...Admittedly, he’s not exactly putting his best efforts forward with you, this is true,” Duke acknowledged, but Wade meant well.  Wade just... worried.  Was protective, as best he knew how.  “Though you did actually threaten to arrest him, last time we talked to him.”

“He wants to be an ass to me, that’s one thing, but he was causing you a problem,” Nathan said, shrugging.  “You were going to take him to the pavement if he didn’t back off.”

“My temper was a little short, I’d just been tackled by a spider the size of a car, it had been a long damn day.”

“Not saying you didn’t have reason, just saying that my way was faster and marginally less illegal.”  ...And that was kinda hot, Nathan abusing his badge for the sake of efficiency, and- they were not alone, right, yeah.  Beatty was watching their back-and-forth with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile, and Duke got the unsettling feeling that she _approved_ , and that- that was just _weird_ , and Duke wasn’t going to think about it too hard.

“Well.  Beatty.  It was great to see you, but we actually should get back inside, we have to get ready to head down to the police station, and we have some errands to run before we do that.”

“Uh huh,” Beatty said, sounding a little too knowing.  “Go on, I’ll call if I hear anything about Audrey.  Call me if there’s anything else I can do.”

“We will,” Nathan agreed, though he sounded a little reluctant, still.  Hopefully, it just wouldn’t come up.

Hopefully, they’d find an alternative and find Audrey and solve this all quickly and bloodlessly.

Beatty turned back to her crew, who scrambled to get back to work, and Nathan gave a sharp tug on Duke’s hip, enough to turn him so that he could push him back toward the door.  Duke let him, giving Beatty a last wave over his shoulder, and paused only long enough to make sure they threw the bolt on the door.

“The hell happened to _not rushing into things_?” Nathan asked, as soon as the door was shut, shoving Duke back against the door, and Duke had not expected that, had not been braced for it- Nathan’s hands bracketed his shoulders, and he shook him, once, sharply, before he pressed close, wrapping around Duke.  A little thrown, and still off-balance, Duke nonetheless tilted his head back, letting Nathan settle closer, letting him press his lips against Duke’s throat.  Duke squirmed a bit to try and set his gun aside, and brought his hands up, lacing his fingers together behind Nathan’s neck, holding him in place.

“Easy, Nate,” he admonished gently.  “Sorry, wasn’t trying to make you worry.  I knew you’d be right behind me.”

“And if somebody’d been waiting with a gun, that would have done _what_ for you, exactly?”  Which was technically a fair point, but Duke wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life _hiding_ because somebody _might_ have it out for him.

Because somebody _did_ have it out for him, he knew that, he’d known it since Vanessa had spelled out what he’d see as he died, and hiding wasn’t going to keep that from happening.

Though he probably should make a point of checking before he threw the door open, the spot where Nathan had perched before he’d taken Ian down did have a fairly direct view of the door, and he was definitely going to have to install a screen to block that shot, somehow.

“Sorry,” he said again, letting Nathan lean.  “Seriously.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Just try to _think_ , please, before you go running off.  You’re all impulse sometimes.”

“I can think of a few impulses we could give into right now,” Duke offered, which probably wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had, but hell, they had a few minutes.

“And you have the nerve to call _me_ insatiable?” Nathan replied, nipping Duke’s collarbone.  “No, you wanted- you want us to go by the Gull before we go to the station, we should...  We should probably do that.”  The words sounded like they cost effort to say, and Nathan’s shoulders had gone tight and tense.

Duke wasn’t sure if it was weird that he was seriously kinda proud of him, just then.

“Okay.  You’re right, I do want to do that, thank you for remembering.”  Which sounded more patronizing than he’d intended it to, so he followed it up by pulling Nathan up into a kiss, slow and teasing.  “I’ll just have to seduce you later.”

“Gonna hold you to that,” Nathan said, and he didn’t look any steadier, but he did look determined, and Duke could work with that.

Could respect that.

“Oh, believe me, I have _every_ intention of following through.  But if we’re going to be well-behaved this morning, then we have time for me to actually make breakfast.  Go, do your stuff, get dressed, I’ll put something together.”

“Nothing sweet,” Nathan said, and Duke sighed.

“I got it, Nate, you’ve said that every time I’ve even mentioned cooking breakfast this week.  Savory only.”  Which, generally, Duke didn’t mind- savory breakfasts could be good- but the pointed _absence_ of the occasional syrupy foodstuffs was actually starting to bother him on a level he’d never imagined it _could_.  He wanted a goddamn plate of waffles out of nothing but _spite_ , at this point.

Though he generally tried to avoid spiteful cooking.  Tended to result in subpar food, and he didn’t like waste.  He’d just have to do without until Nathan got over whatever the hell this was.

“...Thanks.”  Nathan finally backed up, letting Duke step away from the metal door- which he appreciated, the metal was _cold_ and he didn’t have a shirt on, his back was _freezing_ , now- and Duke slipped around him to head for the kitchen.  Nathan followed, and stopped to back him up against the counter and steal another kiss before he ducked back down the hall to the bedroom.

Duke turned his attention to putting together something interesting using the fish that hadn’t actually been used the night before, and tried not to dwell on the fact that he wasn’t actually all that much more confident about the idea of splitting up, even for a few minutes, than Nathan was.

He was just better at hiding his fear.

It was necessary; he _knew_ it was necessary, had been absolutely serious about the reasons he’d laid out.  Sooner or later, they were going to _have_ to split up, he’d spent enough time working with Nate and Audrey _before_ everything had gone to hell in a handbasket to know that sometimes, there just wasn’t a better option.  And Nathan’s panic might be more visible, but Duke hadn’t gone chasing after him in the parking lot at the Gull on a lark, hadn’t spent the last week at the police station purely because Nathan needed him there.  In the police station itself, or on board the Rouge, it wasn’t so bad, Duke could focus on a task and be fine with Nathan being out of sight, but elsewhere...  It didn’t take long, when he couldn’t immediately see Nathan, for his mind to provide the helpful image of moonlight glinting off the barrel of a gun.

Disaster, after all, only took a few seconds.

Duke had been close enough to hear the gunshots, last time.  Had been _thirty damn seconds_ too late.

And Audrey wasn’t here to pick up the pieces, if he failed.  Wasn’t here to figure out how to trigger a Trouble to save the day at the last possible damn moment.

But neither one of them was as effective as they could be, like this, and that was its own kind of risk.  Sometimes, the most effective guard was the one you couldn’t see, and Duke couldn’t get out of sight, right now.

And there was also the fact that Duke was used to spending huge amounts of his time _alone_.  Was used to hours of uninterrupted silence, was used to having time to sit and reflect and recharge, and he wasn’t getting that, now.  Didn’t even know how to broach the subject of _needing_ that time, when he was pretty sure the absolute last thing _Nathan_ needed was more time alone with his thoughts.  And somehow, he didn’t think Nathan was going to be particularly interested in getting up an hour early so that Duke could run through his yoga routine.

He felt awkward even worrying about it.  It was such an insignificant thing, compared to what was going on.  Compared to everything else they had to deal with.  But Duke was also aware enough to know that he was starting to feel the lack- that he was more sharp-edged than usual, and that was saying something.  That the constant sense of being _unprepared_ was only getting worse, that the things he usually kept in check- for a certain value of ‘in check’, at least- were a lot closer to the surface than they should be, and _that_ was dangerous, too.

He wished they could afford to take a day and just... _go_ , just take the Rouge out a few miles off the coast, but that would probably not go over well with their keepers.  And Duke did not want to get shot again.

Seriously, he did not enjoy that.

So he’d have to figure something out closer to home, and what he _wanted_ was a little bit of time to stretch, to sit quietly, to move and meditate and _be_.  Particularly if Nathan was going to be so damn sensitive about throwing punches- if Duke couldn’t unwind the quick and dirty way, he was going to _have_ to get back to his routine, or the next explosion might actually mean someone getting _hurt_.

Duke finished putting breakfast together just as Nathan came back out of the bedroom, so Duke handed him his plate and went to take care of his own morning routine.  He made sure to layer as he got dressed, and made equally sure that his undershirt was firmly tucked in, hiding the layers of dark circles on his hips; _he_ liked the sight of them, but they were definitely not subtle, and he’d rather not have to explain them along with the black eye, if anyone decided to make a fuss.  Not that he expected anybody but maybe Wade to care, and he was hoping to avoid running into Wade today.

He’d been avoiding him since their argument at the Gull, half ashamed of himself for having threatened him, half still _pissed_ that Wade had gotten in his business like that.  That Wade had very nearly spilled secrets that Duke had been keeping for _years_.

Not that he hadn’t spilled them _himself_ a few minutes later, but that wasn’t the point.

Though he would need to patch things up there, somehow.  He would need to reach out, try again to get Wade to _leave_ , hopefully without burning that bridge permanently.  Though if Nathan was half as clingy and open in front of Wade as he’d been in front of Beatty, that might honestly solve the problem for him- Wade had been _relieved_ when Duke had introduced him to Evi.  Had been so grateful to see Duke married off to a pretty girl that he’d been willing to overlook her line of work and her habit of trailing danger in her wake.

...So maybe Nathan and Beatty had a point, Wade could be kind of an ass about certain things.

Not the point.  Point was, differences aside, Wade was still _around_ , was still _trying_ , and Duke needed to come up with a solution that would not end with the Guard putting Wade in the ground just for being unlucky enough to share Simon Crocker’s genes and still decent enough to try and look out for his kin.

He just didn’t want to do it _today_.  Today promised to be stressful enough without the addition of fighting with his brother.

He headed back out to the kitchen, and smirked when he caught Nathan sneaking a second helping off the stove; Nathan started guiltily, and Duke couldn’t quite disguise his laugh.

“Relax, there’s plenty, you’re allowed to take more,” he said, snagging his own plate.  “You could use it.”

“It’s good,” Nathan said, and the fact that he still looked conflicted didn’t stop him from making short work of his second portion.  Duke had to assume that a display of actual appetite was a good thing.

“Thank you.  Seemed a shame not to do something with it, after I took it out yesterday- it wouldn’t have been as good, if I’d let it sit much longer.”

“You really like cooking?” Nathan asked, sounding curious and less judgemental than Duke kind of expected with that sort of question, and he shrugged.

“Yeah.  It’s satisfying, it’s...” he paused, considered, and flashed Nathan a teasing smile.  “It’s art and a puzzle all in one, and at the end you get to eat it.  What’s not to like?”

“You said you were gonna teach me some things,” Nathan said.  “You actually mean it, or are you gonna keep banishing me from the kitchen every time you cook?”

“...You actually want to learn?” Duke asked, a little surprised, and Nathan shrugged.

“I like making things.  It’s not really that different, right?”

“No, it’s, it’s really not.  Okay.  Tonight.  We’ll start with something simple, you like ravioli?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.”  Duke looked down at his food, trying to keep from being too obviously pleased.  Trying not to look like he was looking forward to the thought as much as he was.

He finished his meal, and wrapped up what was left, putting it away and clearing the dishes, immensely satisfied that Nathan had finished his second portion, as well.  Duke would be a lot happier when Nathan’s ribs were a little less pronounced, when he looked a little less _gaunt_.

“Ready to go?” he asked, leaning in to wrap an arm around Nathan’s waist and rest his chin on his shoulder, and Nathan went tense under his touch, but nodded anyway.

“Yeah.  Let’s...  Let’s get this done.”  Nathan reached out, caught Duke by the hip and clung for a minute, before he stood up and squared his shoulders.  “It’s just the drive to the station, anyway.”

“Exactly,” Duke said, nudging him with his shoulder.  “Nothing to it.”

Nathan nodded, and they headed out, Nathan taking the lead and Duke pausing long enough to tuck a handgun into the waist of his jeans, hiding it under the tail of his overshirt.  He didn’t exactly expect to need it, but better to have it than not, even if he _was_ going to spend all day jumpy, carrying it in a building full of cops.

They didn’t talk on the drive to the Gull, Nathan’s attention fixed on the road ahead of them, Duke sprawled out over the seat, one foot tapping nervously as he ran through a brief mental exercise meant to clear his mind and focus his thoughts.   _Calm_ was out of the question, but focused and steady, he was pretty sure he could manage.

It was early enough that the lot at the Gull was mostly empty; Jennifer’s car was already gone, suggesting that she’d left for the station already.  Duke mustered a confident smile and pulled Nathan in for a kiss.

“You want me to lead, or follow?” he asked, willing to take whichever position would make Nathan more comfortable, just then- Nathan was already clutching the wheel a little too tightly, knuckles white.

“Lead,” Nathan replied, and Duke nodded.  It was the answer he’d expected, if not the one he’d wanted to hear- he’d be more comfortable being able to keep eyes on Nate’s car the whole way, but obviously the feeling was mutual, and this was his idea.  He could man up and take the lead, if it’d make this less stressful for Nathan.

“Okay.  I’ll see you at the station,” he said, and he headed for his truck, hoping that it would start up okay after being ignored for a week- though it had started just fine after being ignored for _months_ , so it’d probably be fine.  Part of why he liked it- it was dependable, didn’t require much to keep it running.

The engine turned over without a hitch, and he pulled out of the parking lot, headed for the main road into town.  The Bronco followed, closer to his bumper than there was any excuse for, and Duke sure as hell hoped he didn’t have to brake suddenly.

Nathan would have been writing a ticket for anyone _else_ trying that move.  Duke wondered if he could get away with teasing him about that, if it would help normalize things or just make Nathan self-conscious and even more uncomfortable about the whole process.  Probably safer not to risk it, even if he hated to see the opportunity go by.

Oh well.  There would be other opportunities.

Duke focused on his breathing, ran through five different meditations as he drove, keeping the churning unease down.  He had to make a point of keeping his eyes on the road, and not on the rearview mirror, only letting himself check at the end of each block- if he let himself keep watch while he was driving, he’d end up running someone over, Haven’s foot traffic was not exactly known for remembering to look both ways and all.

...Actually, it was amazing there were as few car-on-pedestrian accidents as there were, given all the various ways people ended up in the streets in this town, _outside_ the usual small town disregard for good sense.

Despite his concentration, despite his best efforts, Duke was still breathing a little too fast when he pulled into the parking lot at the station and parked next to Jennifer’s jeep.  Nathan parked on the other side of his truck, and Duke closed his eyes and dragged a sense of calm and confidence over himself by sheer force of will before he got out and went to lean on the Bronco’s side panel.  Nathan didn’t look much better, pale and pinched and still holding the wheel too tightly.

But they’d managed.  And Duke was right, they _had_ to get this under control, because a ten minute drive should not be that damn stressful.  If they didn’t get a handle on this, it was gonna get somebody killed.  And there were enough deaths on their collective scale, right now, they didn’t need any more.

Nathan got out of the car, and Duke gave him a carefully encouraging smile.

“Nothing to it, right?” he asked, and Nathan gave him a sharp look that Duke didn’t take personally, because that was just how Nate handled things.

“Right,” Nathan said flatly, and his hands twitched, a short, aborted jerk in Duke’s direction.  Duke obligingly stepped closer, taking advantage of the fact that they were in a relatively sheltered area of the parking lot to steal a kiss.  Nathan grabbed his hips, holding on, keeping him close, and Duke let him, let him reassure himself that everything was still _fine_ \- well, for as much as anything was fine right now- and that there had been no ill effects from the ten whole minutes they hadn’t been within arm’s reach of each other.

They were a fucking mess, the both of them.  For a minute, the thought crossed his mind that maybe actually talking to Claire, just informally, wouldn’t be the world’s worst idea-

-and then he remembered, and hated himself a little for forgetting, even for a moment.

Even if it was getting a little difficult to remember who was around and who had left and who had died, who hadn’t been themselves to begin with and who had been themselves to start but weren’t when they left, when they died, and who might not be themselves the next time they found them.

He fucking _hated_ this town.  Hated that he couldn’t be here without getting involved, _invested_ , and that it inevitably ended in losing people he’d never wanted to care about in the first place.

Nathan made a questioning sound, and Duke realized that _he’d_ started to shake, started to breathe too quickly again, and he shook his head, forced the emotions back in their box.  Put his shoulders back and a smile on, and nodded toward the police station.

“Come on, let’s get inside, you have a long day of doing boring ass shit ahead of you, and I have a long day of watching you do it.”

“Never know, we might catch a case.”

“I’d really prefer we didn’t.”

“...Yeah, me too.”  Nathan frowned, and Duke leaned into him, took one more moment to be unnecessarily close before he backed up and motioned Nathan past him, falling into place at his side.

They hadn’t made it to Nathan’s office before Dwight intercepted them, and Nathan’s shoulders went tense, his expression fell into a neutral mask that couldn’t quite disguise the anger in his gaze.  Duke wasn’t all that much happier to see Dwight, right at the moment, not after Beatty had let them know how much they hadn’t been told, and settled into a slightly more relaxed pose that would nonetheless let him respond in an instant if things started to get messy.

Not that he really expected that, not here, not with Dwight, but stranger things had happened.  Often.

Dwight didn’t immediately notice; he had a folder open and was still actively looking over the contents as he motioned them to a stop, and he was talking before he’d bothered to look up.

“Good, you’re here, I need you to look into- the hell happened to you two?”  Dwight finally looked up, and his expression shifted to one of concern.  “Something happen last night after we left?”

“What?” Nathan asked, obviously thrown, and Dwight motioned at Duke.  Duke frowned, shifted back a step, before he remembered.

“No.  We’re fine,” he said, tone distinctly inviting Dwight to find a new topic.

“...Right,” Dwight said, and the way he said it made Duke think that he wasn’t quite done with the subject, but he nodded toward the door of Nathan’s office.  Nathan, still stiff-shouldered, opened the door and headed inside, headed for his desk, and Duke followed after, leaving Dwight to trail after them both and pull the door shut.  “There’s a case I need you two on,” he said, as soon as the door was shut, but he didn’t move to offer Nathan the folder; instead he glanced between them again.  “You know you’re supposed to report in if you have a problem?”

“There was no problem,” Duke said, scowling, and seizing the opportunity to take control of the conversation.  “Unless you count the fact that you’ve apparently left a few things out of our conversations- we talked to Beatty this morning, she says there’s more than the usual amount of factioning happening?”

Dwight’s expression shifted, brows pulling together, eyes narrowing just slightly, jaw tensing- minor things, not enough to be a scowl or a frown or a glare, just enough to let Duke know he’d touched a nerve, that Dwight hadn’t been prepared to discuss that, that he didn’t have a response immediately at the ready.

“You should have told us,” Nathan chimed in, sounding bleak.

“Why?” Dwight returned, fixing his attention on Nathan, posture shifting- he’d rallied, and quickly, and Duke bared his teeth in a defensive smile as he shifted to perch on the edge of Nathan’s desk, arms crossed over his chest, because that quick a return to confidence read like he thought Nathan was an easier target to derail than Duke, and Duke didn’t approve of that.  “Not anything you could have done about it, and I need you focused.”

“Uh, because us not _knowing_ things like that is _dangerous_?” Nathan replied, leaning forward over his desk, bracing himself on his hands.  “You want me to try and be Audrey, here, you want me to go in and talk people down, help them control their Troubles, I can’t do that if I don’t know what’s going on.  I can’t do that if I don’t know what the ground they’re walking looks like.  Maybe Audrey can do this on instinct and a prayer, but I _can’t_.”

“You’ve been doing fine so far,” Dwight said, shrugging.  “Marion, Shawna, Roland, you talked all three of them down, got all three of them settled.  I didn’t see any reason to add an additional complication to things, when so far, you two being back seems to have settled things down.”

“Yeah, see, that’s actually not a good enough answer,” Duke cut in.  “Putting aside that Nathan’s managed to do a damn good job without all the information, his point still stands, and that’s _really_ not the only issue here.  Who are we dealing with?  Where are the lines drawn?  If one of us talks to someone from one group, does that make somebody else decide we’ve taken sides?  What’s the flow of information like, how quick does news travel?  Are we talking petty squabbling, or are we talking kidnappings, people being tied up and shoved into old shacks and nearly set on fire?  Because lemmie remind you, that was happening _before_ , and if things have gotten _worse_ , we need to know where not to step.  And if you want to give us our marching orders, here, Dwight, then _you_ should have been the one telling us there were land mines out there!”

“I made a decision to keep certain things need to know,” Dwight replied, with a heavy sigh; his shoulders slumped, just a bit, and Duke was pretty sure that he really hadn’t expected any kind of active argument from them, had been hoping to roll over their initial anger and move on before they had the chance to turn it into a real discussion.  Unfortunately for Dwight, they were stubborn bastards, and he was going to have to justify this decision whether he liked it or not.  “Unlike the both of you, I’ve been here for the past six months.  I know the situation.”

“And how does deliberately keeping us in the dark help you?  Help anyone?” Nathan asked, sounding baffled and no little offended.

“Because if you don’t know the problem exists, you don’t treat anybody differently.  You don’t pick sides, you don’t get lost in the politics of it.  And you don’t get distracted trying to _fix_ that problem, when that’s well outside what you can do right now,” Dwight replied.  “Listen to me.  I get that you are used to calling the shots here, Nathan.  I get that you’re both used to playing by your own set of rules.  But that isn’t going to work now.  You’re both being watched too closely to have the luxury of playing it off the cuff- you can either trust me, or not, you can either work with me, or not, that’s up to you.  But you should remember that I stuck my neck out for you, that I’m the reason you’re not handcuffed in the basement of some Guard safehouse right now.”

“And we’re grateful for that,” Duke interjected, “but you can’t use us effectively if we’re blind, here.  You _know_ Nathan, Dwight, you know he’s a _good cop_.  He’s been doing this job a lot longer than you have, _use that_.  Read him in, for chrissakes, because otherwise?  You get us showing up here pissed off and uncooperative, because sooner or later _someone else will_.  You want us to trust you, to work with you, _give us something to work with_.”

“I don’t _care_ about the politics, Dwight.  I know what we have to do, here, I know- I’m not interested in taking anybody’s side, I just want to find Audrey and solve all this.”  Nathan straightened up, moved around the desk, and Duke recognized the set of his jaw, the angle of his shoulders, and tried to signal him to stand down, to back off, but Nathan wasn’t watching him, was focused on Dwight.  “And you want to take chances with me, fine, I don’t care.  But you let me take Duke out, _blind_ \- where the hell do you get off, making _that_ call?”

“Look, which of you wants to have this argument first, because I’m not going back and forth with the both of you,” Dwight said, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Duke shifted sideways to edge Nathan back a step.  “I really don’t have the time for this.”

Duke gave Nathan a pointed look, to which Nathan replied with a sharp glare; the silent and expressive exchange that followed ended with Duke clamping a hand on Nathan’s shoulder hard enough that it’d probably leave marks, giving him a razor sharp smile, and turning a much more conciliatory look on Dwight.

“Look, Dwight.  Seriously.  You have obviously been working _very_ hard the last few months, you are _obviously_ in a tight spot.  Nobody’s asking you to let us make the calls, here-” Dwight raised an eyebrow at the same time that Nathan smothered a cough, and Duke gave a self-deprecating smile, recognizing the irony in that statement when the last serious conversation he’d had with Dwight had expressly included the phrase ‘I make my own calls’- “but you have to recognize that we’re not exactly a standard team, here.  And this chess game you’ve got going with Vince?  We’re not anybody’s _pawns_.  We need real information.  And if you don’t want to read me in, _fine_ , I can live with that, but _use_ the damn detective you insisted you needed.  That’s all we’re asking for.”

“You may not be a standard team, but you _are_ a team operating out of this department, and that means you operate under my direction,” Dwight said, and Duke forced himself to maintain a relatively agreeable expression.  “There are going to be situations where I have to decide how much information you actually need.”

“Yes, fine, I get that.  Was this really one of them?” Duke countered, and Dwight sighed heavily.

“Yes.  For your first week back, while I was still trying to figure out how much I could rely on the two of you?  While you were still getting oriented?  Yes.  I stand by my call, here.”

“That’s-” Nathan started, and Duke gave his shoulder a firm shake, a pointed reminder that Duke was doing the talking, right now.  He could _hear_ Nathan’s teeth click together around the rest of whatever he’d been planning to say, and he was definitely going to have to do some damage control there later, but Nathan still had his defiant pose on, and that wasn’t going to get them anywhere with Dwight, not now.

“Okay.  Fine.  You thought it was necessary while we were getting our feet back under us.  I disagree, but done is done, and it was your call to make.  Now.  We know there’s a situation, you know we have sources outside the department.  You want to take point on this, or do you want us to go work this all out for ourselves?”  Duke gestured with the hand that _wasn’t_ still keeping a grip on Nathan’s shoulder, offering Dwight the choice, trying not to sound too much like he meant it as a threat.

“If I tell you to leave this alone, will you listen?” Dwight asked, and Duke gave a single laugh.

“Yeah, no, don’t think so,” he said, willing to be honest about it.  Recognizing that Dwight already knew the answer, that he was just looking to get a read on how direct they were willing to be.  And it was to their advantage, right now, to appear to be keeping everything above-board, even when they weren’t being entirely cooperative.

Deception was often no more than just the right amount of honesty, after all.

Dwight looked considering, obviously trying to parse out just how much that honesty was _worth_ , and Duke waited, expectant.  He saw the moment Dwight decided that telling them what they wanted to know was going to be less trouble than letting them go try and work it out on their own, saw the moment when he decided that this was not a fight worth pursuing.  It was subtle- Dwight was surprisingly subtle, for someone who put on a good show of being direct and loud- but Duke hadn’t gotten by as long as he had by missing that kind of cue.

“Fine.  We’ll talk about it when you get back in.  Right now, I need you two on this morning’s mess.”

Duke dropped his hand from Nathan’s shoulder and stepped to the side, and Nathan shot him a darkly sarcastic look, managing to perfectly convey the question ‘oh, am I allowed to participate now?’ with little more than his eyebrows and the faintest curl to his lip, and Duke lowered his eyes, quirked a smile, and spread his hands- Nathan rolled his eyes in response, obviously reading the returned, ‘I surrender to your superior talent in this area’ without any difficulty.

It was funny, how much easier that was starting to get.  They hadn’t been on quite that level since high school- some of the subtlety had gone out of their unspoken conversations after Nathan had left for school, and they’d gotten even more terse and difficult after Duke had come back to Haven the first time.  Back in the day, they’d been able to have two entirely separate conversations at once, when they’d been pressed- which had been very, very useful when they were coming up with a cover story while they were actively being interrogated by an irritated authority figure.

Nathan’s dad had _hated_ it.  It had made it very, very difficult to catch them in a lie.

“Tell me about this morning’s mess,” Nathan said, not sounding particularly mollified, but that was something Duke would have to sort out later.  After all, he’d glossed over Nathan’s issue with the situation entirely.

“How familiar are you with the concept of will o'the wisps?” Dwight asked, and Duke couldn’t keep back a quiet groan of dismay.

“Really?” Nathan asked, sounding just as plaintive, and Dwight nodded.

“Looks like we’ve got two missing people so far.”

“Wonderful,” Duke said, sighing.  There was no way this ended well.  He’d put money on it.

So much for hoping they  _didn't_ catch a case today.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, folks, I am miserably sick right now, so this is a little later than I'd planned. It looks like updates are going to be about once a week for a little while, I'll try to get back to two a week as soon as I can.

Dwight really hadn’t wanted to start the day with a confrontation.  He’d known he was operating on borrowed time, trying to keep Nathan and Duke away from the political situation in Haven, but he’d wanted at least another week before he had to start worrying about one or the other of them deciding they had a personal obligation to try and smooth things over.  Particularly since they were about the only edge he had in dealing with Vince, right now, and Vince was starting to overstep.

Though it had been... enlightening to see the interplay between them.  He’d expected Nathan to take up the conversation- Nathan was the one who actually worked for the department, was actually a cop.  He had much stronger ground to stand on in taking issue with Dwight’s decision than Duke did, had a better position to argue from, and was, ostensibly, the one that Dwight was most likely to listen to.

Instead, Nathan had folded and let Duke take the lead, had let him handle the conversation even when it was clear Nathan had an issue with _how_ he was handling it.  It was somewhat unexpected, and Dwight was going to make a point of remembering that they’d worked it out without a single word spent between them.

That could be either a serious threat, or a very valuable tool, and he wasn’t sure which was more likely, yet.  It’d probably depend on how they responded to the conversation he’d reluctantly agreed to have later.

He’d work on the _why_ of that dynamic later- he didn’t think it was as simple as Duke being better prepared to spin a story, not when there wasn’t a story to spin.  They hadn’t been on the defensive, lying wasn’t to their benefit.  There was something else to it.  He wasn’t sure what, yet, but he’d figure it out.

For now, they had business to attend to.

“Our missing people are Harold Gannet and Walt McPhee.  Mr. Gannet was out walking his dog this morning along the beach at Dimmer’s Cove.  A pair of fishermen saw him; they reported that a wave of fog rolled in from out of nowhere, and that they could see flickering lights inside the fog; Mr. Gannet’s dog apparently came running out of the fog, tail between its legs, and when the fog rolled back out, Mr. Gannet was gone,” he said, all business- the same could not be said of his audience.  Duke sighed and leaned back against Nathan’s desk, crossing his arms and looking petulant, if reluctantly attentive.  Nathan shot a look in Duke’s direction at the movement, his own pose still full of barely-contained aggression, and Duke sidled left without actually meeting that look, until his arm was brushing against Nathan’s.

Nathan didn’t relax, but he did at least turn his attention back to Dwight.

“Walt McPhee was two miles north of Dimmer’s Cove, meeting up with Laci Stevens for a... romantic interlude,” Dwight continued, once he had, and Nathan frowned.

“Isn’t Walt married?” he asked, and Dwight nodded.

“Yes, which is apparently why they were meeting out on the coast, a good half-mile off the road.  According to Laci, when she arrived, there wasn’t any fog on the coast, but shortly after Walt got there, a heavy wall of it overwhelmed the area.  She says she got nervous, wanted to leave.  Walt tried to talk her into staying, but Laci got back in her car.  Walt was apparently knocking on the window when the lights started.  Laci said his expression just... emptied, and he walked off after the lights.  Laci tried to follow in her car, but once he got under the trees, she stopped and called nine one one.”

“Smart of her,” Duke said, looking thoughtful.  “If she’d gotten out, we might have three missing people and no witness for two of them.”

“You think it might require contact with the fog to work?” Nathan asked, frowning.  

“Or the lights, but yeah, it might be a contact thing,” Duke returned, shrugging.

“What about the fishermen?  They weren’t affected,” Nathan pointed out.  Dwight looked down at his notes, and raised an eyebrow.

“Apparently, the fog didn’t come in off the water, it rolled _down_ the beach, from on shore.  They weren’t ever in the fog itself.”

“It originated on _shore_?” Duke asked.  “This morning?  How early?”

“Harold disappeared at approximately five forty five.  Lacy called in at six twelve.”

“No.  Not at that time of day, not on that portion of coast.  Fog on the water’s not that unusual, but the air’s moving shoreward, not seaward,” Duke said, shaking his head.  “The bluffs are low there, there’s not even usually any updraft to stir things up.”

“So the fog is a part of it, it’s not just the lights,” Nathan said.

“I know a guy, I can get us the satellite feeds for this morning, figure out what the spread is, how this thing moves,” Duke said, and Nathan nodded.

“Good.  And our witnesses didn’t see anyone else in the area?”

“Not according to their statements.”  Dwight offered the folder to Nathan, who took it with somewhat less hostility than he’d been showing up to that point, apparently distracted from his irritation now that he was thinking.  He started to read, and Duke leaned in, glancing over the notes- Nathan shifted to block his view, and Duke huffed a sigh.

“Nate,” he said, sounding pointed, and Nathan looked up at him- Dwight watched them work through another silent exchange, and Nathan looked chagrined.

“Sorry.  Habit.”  Nathan adjusted so that Duke could actually read, and Duke narrowed his eyes at the papers.

“What time was sunrise today?” he asked, glancing between the window and the clock.

“About six fifteen, I think,” Dwight replied, a little surprised Duke didn’t actually know.  He was usually pretty aware of things like that- Duke didn’t seem to be fully caught up, yet.  One more variable to keep track of, one more possible problem to keep in mind.

“So both disappearances took place before sunrise?” Nathan asked, glancing at Duke.

“And within a half an hour of each other.”

“Not a lot of people moving around at that hour.”

“Not usually, no.”

“It’ll make the suspect list a little shorter, anyway.”

“We have to go talk to Vince and Dave, don’t we,” Duke said, sounding entirely unenthusiastic about the idea, and Nathan closed the folder and bumped Duke with his shoulder.

“We’ll start by talking to the witnesses ourselves, get a better idea of exactly what they saw, see if we can’t pin down any loose details.   _Then_ we go talk to Vince and Dave.”

“That’s really not better,” Duke complained, but he was already headed back towards the door of the office.  “We should go out to the Cove, too, see if we can see anything out of place.  Y’know, new bogs, unexplained changes to the forest, faerie rings-”

“Faerie rings?  Really?”

“Look, glowing lights in self-propelled fog, that’s either aliens or faeries, and we’ve done aliens once already,” Duke said, shrugging.

“And what, there’s a quota now?” Nathan asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.  Dwight wasn’t sure if he was pleased to hear it or not- Nathan had swung between confrontational and aggressive, and nearly robotic in his focus since he’d been back, and seeing him _relax_ a little, seeing him come back to something closer to normal, could either be helpful or distinctly problematic, depending on which angle he was viewing it from.  On a personal level, Dwight wanted to be glad about it- he hadn’t gotten to know Nathan _well_ , in the few months he’d worked for him, but he’d liked what he’d seen, had appreciated Nathan’s directness and compassion, and while he wasn’t exactly a friend, he was certainly more than just an acquaintance.  On a personal level, Dwight had been _worried_ by the state Nathan was in when he came back, by his instability and obvious trauma- and Dwight had been there, he knew those shadows very well- and seeing him start to level out, seeing him start to relax around Duke, at least, should have been a good thing.

But Dwight couldn’t operate on a personal level; not in the position he was now in.  He had to consider the well-being of the town as a whole, and the town- callous as it was, heartless as it was- needed Nathan to die.

It bothered Dwight, itched away at the back of his mind like a thorn in his skin, but it was the only option they had.  He couldn’t put the life of one man above the lives of _everyone_ else, and people were _dying_.  People had been living like they were under siege, since the meteors, since the sudden and _visible_ change to the way things were supposed to go- and that, that was a political mistake as much as anything, in the wake of the disastrous starfall, with Nathan in the hospital and out of favor and no clear second-in-command to turn to, not even his well-liked if not exactly trusted criminal-on-the-side.  Vince had pushed too far with the Guard, left them exposed in a way they hadn’t been before, and it had taken _time_ for Dwight to establish himself with the police, no matter what the Selectmen had to say, and fact and rumor had both been flying too fast and too thick for anyone to get a handle on until the damage was done and the whole damn town couldn’t ignore what was in front of them any longer.  The Troubles were _out_ , only the most sheltered or deliberately obtuse people still unaware of the situation, and that had consequences.  People were scared, and angry, constantly waiting for the next disaster.

And that _had_ to stop.  Haven couldn’t continue to exist in a state of barely controlled panic, of suspicion and fear, not without something snapping.  He could already see the signs, with people dividing themselves up as they were- it wouldn’t be long before insults and shouting turned into real violence.  Vince wasn’t helping, using the Guard as his own private police force, having his people out in the streets making noise and occasionally getting in the way of the actual police, leaving those individuals who hadn’t already come down firmly in one camp or another confused and suspicious and unsure, and making those who _had_ feel persecuted or vindicated depending on their loyalty of choice.  It was a mess, it was getting worse every day, and it had to stop.  No matter the cost.

And the pragmatist in him recognized- hated, but still recognized- that the more Nathan headed toward _stable_ , the more he pulled himself together, the more difficult it was going to be when he had to look Audrey in the eyes and convince her to pull the trigger.

“Fine, we’ll add _crop circles_ to the list of things to look for, at least we’ve seen those before,” Duke replied, rolling his eyes.  “Though seriously, if it’s aliens again, I am going to be very disappointed.”

“It’s not aliens.  Or faeries.  It’s a Trouble,” Nathan said, voice firm.

“Well, _obviously_ ,” Duke said, with a dramatic sigh.  “It’s always a Trouble, but the _nature_ of the Trouble-”

“Will be better ascertained by you two actually investigating instead of standing here talking about it,” Dwight interrupted, motioning toward the door of the office.  They both looked back at him with similar expressions, slightly startled and slightly chagrined, as if they’d gotten so wrapped up in their back and forth that they’d forgotten they had an audience.  “Though I’d like to speak to you for a moment, Duke- if you wouldn’t mind waiting outside, Nathan?”

The hostility that had just barely dissipated came back full force at his request, Nathan stiffening up so quickly that his back popped, expression one of barely-concealed outrage, and that was another thing that Dwight was going to have to worry about, another variable he didn’t want to have to keep track of, but couldn’t be ignored.  Duke also went tense, though his expression stayed far more genial; Dwight doubted he was any less agitated than Nathan, but he was better at hiding it.

But then, Dwight had seen Duke at work, before.  Knew how well he could play a role, when he chose to.

He watched carefully, trying to learn as much as he could, as they exchanged looks, trying to read as much of the minutia of pose and posture as possible- Nathan shot a look at Duke that seemed almost sharp, and Duke tilted his head, shoulders curving down just a fraction even as his brows rose, and Nathan’s expression flickered, lips thinning as the lines around his mouth deepened, before Duke flicked a glance down, then back up, and some of Nathan’s visible tension subsided.

“It’s fine, Nate, just give us a second,” Duke said, putting on an easy smile, and _that_ was interesting; from the silent part of the exchange, Dwight was fairly sure Duke had been checking for _Nathan’s_ approval, had been seeking permission- his words implied otherwise, and Dwight wasn’t certain what the point of the ploy was, if it was a ploy.  If Dwight wasn’t just reading them wrong.

“...Sure,” Nathan said, looking unconvinced, but he headed for the door, pausing just long enough to brush his hand across Duke’s shoulder, casual and almost unremarkable, the kind of easy, subtle contact they’d always displayed, even when they were snarling and snapping at each other, even when Nathan’d had his back up every time Duke stepped into view and Audrey’d been rolling her eyes and playing peacemaker.

Dwight had wondered, initially, what kind of history there was between the two of them that would make Nathan comfortable having Duke at his back, _armed_ , even when the two were fighting; it was fairly clear _now_ that it wasn’t recklessness so much as _habit_ , the sort of deeply-burned trust that never fully vanished.

Trust Nathan maybe shouldn’t count on, not if Duke was coming to Dwight with information about his Trouble, and trying to keep Nathan from finding out about it.

Variable after variable.  Running things in Haven was an increasingly complex equation.

Duke reached up, let his fingers meet Nathan’s as Nathan moved past, quick and simple, nothing like the showy forwardness he’d displayed the day before.

Nathan left, pulled the door closed behind him, and Duke fixed Dwight with an easy smile that did nothing to hide his wariness.

“You know, you keep pulling us off for one-on-ones this way, we’re gonna start thinking you don’t trust us,” he said, almost idly, but Dwight wasn’t even slightly fooled- there were enough barbs in those words to go fishing with.

“Nathan talked to you about our conversation yesterday.”

“Of course he fucking did.  Not all of it, he kept something back, but that’s seriously not the point,” Duke replied, shrugging.

“What is your point, Duke?” Dwight asked, wondering whether or not he’d get a real answer.  Wondering if it’d be a useful one, even if he did.

“My point is, neither one of us likes being kept in the dark, and trying to play us against each other isn’t going to work.”

“I’m not trying to play you against one another.  That would be a waste of my time,” Dwight said, shaking his head.  He was damn well smarter than that- Duke was functioning as Nathan’s entire support system right now, turning Nathan against Duke just wasn’t going to happen.  Even the hint of well-intentioned caution he’d shown in their conversation yesterday had put Nathan on edge, left him defensive and angry.  And Duke had already made his position entirely clear- he was loyal to Nathan above anyone else, would protect him in any way he had to.  Creating a wedge there would be too much work for too little gain, and would only create enemies Dwight didn’t need or want.

“Then what’s with the secret pow-wow here, Chief?” Duke asked, easy smile still in place, though his eyes narrowed just slightly.

“What happened to your face?” Dwight asked, and Duke blinked, looked genuinely surprised before shifting into decidedly annoyed.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.  You thought no one was going to notice?”  It wasn’t as if the black eye wasn’t _plainly visible_ , which meant something had happened.  If someone _was_ making trouble, if there’d been another confrontation like the one they’d had with Jordan, he needed to know about it.  He wouldn’t be requiring that Nathan check in every hour while they were working cases if he _wasn’t_ actually concerned about the risk of someone taking things into their own hands without understanding all the nuances of the situation.  And given that Duke clearly resented those check-ins far more than Nathan did, if there _was_ a problem and they weren’t admitting it, Dwight was willing to assume the reason for that was Duke being difficult.

“I thought it’s a goddamn black eye, it’s _nothing_ ,” Duke replied, defensive and harsh, and Dwight raised an eyebrow at him, surprised by his vehemence.

“If someone is causing trouble, if you two are running into problems, I need to know about it-”

“No one is causing trouble,” Duke said, expression clearing, the tension going out of him.  Which was... strange.  He looked _relieved_ , like the fact that _that_ was what Dwight was worried about was less upsetting than whatever he’d assumed Dwight was worrying about.  Which, of course, immediately made Dwight suspicious.  Particularly given that he’d had an interesting conversation with Wade two days ago, one he’d dismissed out of hand at the time.

“Then where’d you pick up the shiner?”

“Seriously, Dwight, nobody is causing trouble.  It’s nothing, it’s handled.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s none of your business,” Duke replied, and he looked- confused.  He looked genuinely confused, like he honestly couldn’t fathom why Dwight was asking.  Like he hadn’t yet realized that by setting himself up as Nathan’s protector and filter and partner, he’d made himself as much a public figure as Nathan was, and as subject to scrutiny and necessary interference.  “Seriously, I do not- I have not had this many people fussing at me over a few bruises since... _ever_ , actually.”

“You know your brother was in here, the other day?” Dwight asked, putting aside the faint, nagging sense of pity that Duke’s offhanded comment stirred, because _that_ was something he couldn’t afford to show.  Duke didn’t strike him as the kind of person who handled _pity_ well, who saw it as anything other than an accusation of weakness, and that wasn’t a pissing match Dwight needed to get into- but the fact that it wasn’t just that Duke hadn’t come to grips with the reality of his position in town, now, that he was just generally baffled that people were concerned about him, it was more telling than maybe Duke had intended it to be.

“Oh, for- what the hell did Wade want?” Duke asked, exasperated.

“Well, for starters, he was filing a complaint.  Did Nathan actually threaten to arrest him?”

“...If I say yes, do you have to actually do anything about it?” Duke asked, eyes narrow, and Dwight shook his head.

“Nope.”

“Then yes, he did, because Wade was being a dick and we were rapidly coming to a place in the conversation where it was either gonna be Nathan arresting him or me assaulting him, and Nathan felt arrest was the lesser of two evils, there.  Personally, I think he should have just let me punch him.  Not like Wade was gonna call the cops.”

“Did he grab him and throw him into a wall?  Because that was the part I had some trouble with.”

“Technically, he pulled Wade off of me,” Duke said, shrugging.  “I mean, if we want to get technical, Wade was trying to prevent me from leaving, does that count as kidnapping?”

“No.  But that does clear a few things up,” Dwight replied, frowning.  “Where are you on getting him out of town?”

“Not anywhere near as close as I’d prefer,” Duke said, scowling.  “I’m working on it.  It’ll be easier once I have paperwork saying I own the restaurant again.”

“I think Stan has something back for you- make sure you check in with him when you and Nathan get back in today, it’ll make everyone’s lives easier when Wade is out of here.  I’m getting a little tired of having to keep a handful of my officers at your bar every day.  Though it’s certainly one of the more popular assignments on offer.”

“I’m sure it’s doing wonders for morale,” Duke replied, voice dry.  “I’ll check in with Stan when we get back.  I want Wade out of here more than the rest of you, I promise you that.  Is that everything, because-”

“Everything except the question you keep dodging.  You can be on your way as soon as you tell me what happened yesterday,” Dwight said, and Duke sighed, looking immensely put upon.

“Nathan and I had a conversation, it got a little spirited, a few punches _may_ have been thrown.  Like I said, it’s _nothing_ , nobody’s causing trouble, it’s _handled_.”

“Nathan.  Hit you.”  Which was- not out of keeping, actually, certainly fit their behavior from _before_ the Barn.  It probably wasn’t anything Dwight needed to worry about, probably wasn’t a problem.  Was definitely not something he wanted to have to dwell on.

“About the same number of times I hit him,” Duke replied, with a sharp, precise sort of smile.  “We fight, it’s a thing, it’s been a thing for years.  Nobody ever used to complain about it, I’m kinda not impressed that people are taking issue with it _now_.”

“Look, how you two handle yourselves?  It’s only my business if it gets in the way of your work.  Try not to do anything too unprofessional while you’re out in the field,” Dwight said, because he really, really didn’t want to dwell on this.  Didn’t want to have to delve into the complexities of that sharp, vicious defensiveness, not when it _was_ relatively in keeping with what he knew about the two of them.  “Just, y’know, maybe keep in mind that you do have appearances to maintain.”

“Nathan’s the one who has to look professional.  I’m allowed to be scruffy and disreputable.”

“To a point,” Dwight warned.  “I start getting complaints, we’re gonna have a problem.”

“You start getting complaints, feel free to fire me,” Duke replied, before he smirked.  “Oh.  Wait.”

“I may not be able to fire you, but I _can_ keep you away from cases,” Dwight reminded him, and it wasn’t a _serious_ threat, because Dwight knew better, knew that Nathan would stop cooperating the minute Dwight interfered with Duke, and that Duke would go from reluctant ally to active threat if Dwight actually _tried_ to send Nathan out alone, but the reminder that there were rules wouldn’t hurt.  Duke narrowed his eyes, looked like he was considering calling Dwight on his bluff, but he shook his head instead.

“Look, Dwight, think about it- this is good, we can use this,” Duke said, and Dwight gave him a disbelieving look.

“How is you looking like you got in a bar brawl useful?” Dwight asked, and Duke sighed.

“Think about this for a minute.  You spent years cleaning up messes in this town, you know how to sell a damn story.  But hey, maybe being the guy making the calls makes it complicated- that’s why you wanted someone with my perspective, right?  So what was your first assumption when I walked in here?  You thought somebody had made trouble, right?”

“Yes,” Dwight agreed cautiously, not entirely sure where Duke was going with this.

“So here’s the thing.  We showed up back in town, somebody took a shot at Nathan, I stopped them.  Every first responder at the scene knows I got hit, how many people do you think have heard that story now?  How many people do you think overheard Jordan’s little crack about me playing guard dog for Nate, or can put two and two together on their own and come up with me running interference for Nathan, here?  I mean, it’s not exactly subtle, we’ve been _seen_ out and about, it’s pretty much gotta be taken into account that I’m protecting him.”

“What’s your point?”

“We’re about to go out and talk to a bunch of people, go to a bunch of places, be _visible_.  What do you think most people are going to assume, if I look like I’ve been in a fight?  Probably the same thing you did, right, somebody thought they could try something.  Somebody tried to make trouble.  Now, given the evidence- Nathan doesn’t have a goddamn mark on him anywhere anybody can see, and I’m pretty obviously in good health, if a little banged up- who do you think _won_ that implied fight?  Nate’s fine, I’m fine- sounds to me like I won.”  Duke shrugged, giving a wry little smile.

“So your play here is... to _bluff_ ,” Dwight said.

“Hey, if I’m an average Haven citizen with nothing more going for me than a grudge and a sense of entitlement, maybe I don’t take the risk of trying to go through _me_ to get to Nate when so far nobody’s landed _shit_ on Nate and I’m still moving.  And sure, _you_ know it’s a bluff, and _I_ know it’s a bluff- or at least, a partial bluff, I kind of resent the implication that I can’t handle myself, here, we both know better- but some of the grumblers, some of the petty trouble, maybe we avoid some of that.  I mean, come on, I took a bullet and was out grocery shopping the next day, out having a nice public chat in my bar, that’s got to be worth a little bit of intimidation value.”

“The Guard won’t fall for that,” Dwight pointed out, but he could reluctantly acknowledge that maybe Duke wasn’t completely wrong, that there was maybe something to be said for Duke’s interpretation of things.   _Dwight_ preferred not having to go up against Duke in a conflict, if it could be avoided; Duke taking advantage of the situation to inflate his reputation certainly wasn’t likely to hurt.

At least, right up until someone decided to go for sheer overwhelming force to get around the problem.

“Sure, the Guard knows we got traded a favor, but that says to _them_ that Vince had to give ground to people answering _your_ phone calls, and that’s gotta be good for you, so I’m still calling that a win.”  Duke shrugged, and Dwight was a little surprised- Duke had made it clear that the only side he was on was Nathan’s, so having him claim some kind of victory in helping Dwight’s position was unexpected.  Though Dwight thought that have more to do with putting Vince’s nose out of joint than any actual loyalty on Duke’s part.

“Just... try not to oversell it,” Dwight said, finally.  “Don’t put so many games in play that you can’t keep track of them.”

“What do you take me for, an amateur?” Duke replied, cracking a grin, and it looked real.  “This, I know how to do.”

“Fine, get out of here,” Dwight said, waving him toward the door and shaking his head.  “Go do some actual work.”

“I expect hazard pay, just so you know- if this is aliens, I am absolutely expecting a check at the end of this,” Duke said, sauntering toward the door.  “Seriously, this job is terrible.”

“If this is aliens, I will personally oversee a bonus of triple your usual rate,” Dwight called after him, as Duke stepped out into the hallway.  Duke turned back around, one hand over his heart.

“Cutting wit, really, I am in awe,” he said, laughing.  “You know, you’re- you’re funny, for a cop, really-”

“Get to _work_ , Crocker,” Dwight said, and Duke vanished out of the doorway.  Dwight could still hear him laughing as he headed up the hall, and he could almost see why Nathan and Audrey kept him around.

It was a shame that they had mutually exclusive goals.

Dwight was not looking forward to having to deal with that.

He headed back to his own office, and Jennifer was waiting, perched on the corner of his desk.  She smiled brightly when he stepped inside, looking up from the folder she was reviewing.  It had become pretty clear that Jennifer wasn’t comfortable without something to do, and that she was equally uncomfortable with the idea of exploring Haven on her own- which Dwight didn’t blame her for in the least, she’d barely crossed into town before she’d been accosted by people with guns and put in the path of a supernatural tornado, her caution was hardly unreasonable.  So they’d worked out a project for her, something she could do while she was at the station, and it was actually proving immensely helpful to Dwight.

Jennifer was going through the unofficial reports, and starting to actually organize them.  Garland had kept his own special set of files, and Nathan had done the same, and neither of them had made any effort to make them _useful_ to anyone else- and Dwight had his own system that was only marginally more effective.  Added to that were files from Eleanor Carr, which stretched back decades, into the last run of Troubles and mixed with files from Gloria Verrano, from Julia Carr, from Lucassi- each done in a different style, each requiring a different type of interpretation.  The end result was that trying to find anything from cases they’d already worked was mostly a matter of hope and luck, and Dwight was hoping to change that.  Wanted to stop having to go to the Teagueses every time they needed information, because Dave and Vince knew the value of what they were sitting on, and used every opportunity to expand their influence.

Jennifer had taken to the task with a startling amount of enthusiasm- enough enthusiasm that if he didn’t genuinely believe she had the best of intentions, he might have been worried.  Keeping Haven’s secrets, after all, was something he’d spent years doing, and handing over all of that information to a relative stranger, someone from outside the town, was not exactly easy for him.

Jennifer, though...  It felt right.  He trusted her, and more to the point, so did Nathan and Duke, which at least let him tell himself that he wasn’t just responding to the fact that she was attractive and engaging.

“Hey,” he said, moving close enough to peer down at the folder she was holding, and offering her a warm smile.

“Hey, yourself,” Jennifer replied, smiling back, adjusting her hold on the file so he could see it better, and shifting just a little closer to him.  “It’s an old one, I’m going through one of the boxes from the M.E.’s office.  It’s really interesting- well, I mean, it’s kind of terrible, obviously, because pretty much it doesn’t look like anything goes through the M.E.’s office without somebody, y’know, dying, but did you know there’s a Trouble that can pull all the air out of a room?  It looks like Dr. Verrano was speculating that it doesn’t _actually_ do that, because it doesn’t create a vacuum effect, there’s a note here that says that pressure remained constant, so she thought it might actually be actively converting oxygen into carbon dioxide.”

“I’m familiar with that one, actually,” Dwight said.  “I know a guy.”

“Oh.  That- sounds pretty terrible, actually, sorry.”

“He’s got it under control,” Dwight replied, shrugging.  “So long as he doesn’t get too worked up, everybody breathes just fine.”

“So, these things run in families, right?  Is there like, a genealogical record for the town?  Because tagging these by family would probably make searching a lot easier, and if the point is to be able to use this for, y’know, police stuff, it’s probably an important piece of meta data.”

“Not sure that’s such a good idea,” Dwight said carefully, and Jennifer looked up at him, head tilted to the side.

“Okay.  Can I ask, or is this one of those things I should just accept and move on?” she asked, and he appreciated that she actually meant the question, that she wasn’t demanding an answer or trying to make him feel guilty for challenging her.

“The thing is...  You haven’t really seen this, but a lot of the people who have Troubles, they aren’t particularly open about it,” Dwight said, picking the words out with care.  “They don’t talk about it.  And those of us who know, we keep quiet.  It’s- we try not to out people, when we can avoid it.  Now, obviously, for some of us, it’s not something we can keep under wraps- most folks know my situation, know my Trouble, because it’s not subtle when it happens, and there’ve been a few times where it’s been... visible.  Publicly.  Nathan never made much of an effort to hide his Trouble, though he didn’t exactly advertise it either.  So you’ve seen us talk about them, seen us acknowledge them like it’s not a big thing, but for a lot of people...  It’s very personal.”

“...So, when Duke told me what your Trouble was...”

“Like I said, most folks know my situation.  But yes, that was something of a... breach of etiquette, would have been more of a problem if I weren’t kind of a public figure now.”

“I didn’t realize,” Jennifer said, frowning.  Dwight reached out, brushed a bit of hair back behind her ear, and shrugged.

“Now you know.  And there are- there’s reasons, for that.  There are people in this town who have made deliberate efforts to target Troubled people.  Who have hurt or even killed people, just because they happened to be Troubled, even if their Trouble wasn’t particularly dangerous or difficult to manage.  So a lot of people, they’re afraid.  Back when all this was picking up speed, starting to get pretty obvious, one of us tried to put together a meeting, tried to get a few of our people together- kind of a support group sort of thing.  He nearly died, and the people who took him, they got hold of the list he was using.  It could have gone very, very badly- Audrey and Nathan, they handled it, they got it back, but...  It could have been a lot worse.  So we tend to stick together, and we tend to be very protective of each other’s privacy.”

“Oh,” Jennifer said quietly, eyes round, and Dwight felt a little guilty for scaring her, but she should probably know the score.  Particularly if she was going to be putting together an electronic database of all their Troubled casefiles- because it was a difficult line, sometimes, between respecting people’s privacy, and being able to respond effectively when there was a problem.  “...So, maybe not tagging by names, then.  I’ll work out something else.  It just might have been interesting, to see what turned up.  It feels like I’m kind of almost seeing patterns, while I do this.”

“Technically, there _is_ something of a record already.  The Herald archives have... quite a bit of information in them, and Vince and Dave have more than just the archives.  Everyone sort of accepts that, because they’ve always been very protective of the information they have.  Maybe we could convince them to let you take a look,” Dwight said, though he wasn’t entirely sure he’d find the price Vince demanded for _that_ sort of favor to be pleasant.

“So, can I ask, I mean- what’s the deal with this Vince guy?  Because you work with him, but you kinda get a little... squinty whenever you talk about him, and Duke _clearly_ doesn’t like him, and it’s a little confusing.  Because, I mean, he called off the people with guns, and he showed up at the hospital, and he... helps, right?”  Jennifer was frowning at him, brows furrowed, concerned and uncertain.

“Vince... is complicated,” Dwight said, moving around his desk to sit down, and Jennifer slipped off the edge of his desk to actually sit in the chair she’d claimed as her own, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the desk, fingers tapping on the surface of her folder.  “You’ve heard us all talk about the Guard?”

“Uh huh.  The people with guns, they were members of the Guard.”

“Vince is the leader of the Guard.  They answer to him,” Dwight said, exhaling heavily.  “As far as I’ve put together, he took over the Guard after his father passed; I’m not entirely sure why leadership didn’t go to Dave, he’s older, but they’re a little tight-lipped about that.  But Vince is in charge, which is why he was able to call the Guard off, when they were threatening the three of you.  And as the leader of the Guard, he’s done a lot of things-” Dwight broke off, feeling the rough, churning edge of guilt and grief rising up, pain he knew he was never going to shake.  Pain that familiarity and time had dulled the edges of, perhaps, pain that no longer left him unable to function, but heavy nonetheless.  He took a breath, rode out the first wave, and continued.  “He’s done a lot of questionable things.  Things that got people, sometimes innocent people, hurt or killed.  He’s kept a lot of secrets and told a lot of lies.”

There were days when Dwight could barely stomach the fact that he was still working with Vince, still having to stand alongside him and cooperate, still occasionally taking orders because he didn’t have the political power to get completely out from under his thumb without putting spark to the powder keg that was this town _himself_.  There were days when he wished he still had the option of pulling a trigger without the bullet homing in on _him_ , because the pain might have dulled with time, but the anger, that just grew and grew.

Then there were days, like today, when Dwight remembered that he was a better man than that, that he owed his little girl better than a memorial of blood and bone, that the Guard served a purpose and Vince was only an old man doing the best he could in a situation designed to screw every single person caught up in it.

“But he’s also done a lot of good.  The Guard exists to protect Troubled people, to keep us safe from the people who think we’re cursed, or damned, or evil.  And there have certainly been times when we’ve needed that protection, where the Guard has prevented tragedies from happening.”

“Why does Duke not want the Guard around Wade?” Jennifer asked, and Dwight sat up a little straighter, considering his options.  Duke hadn’t mentioned his Trouble to Jennifer, even when Dwight and Nathan were explaining the circumstances around their own Troubles to her, which left Dwight fairly sure that Duke didn’t want her to know anything about it.  Not that Dwight could blame him, really, he wouldn’t want to admit to something like the Crocker Curse either.

Particularly not with what Duke had confided about how difficult it might become to control.  Nothing quite like being supernaturally predisposed to becoming a blood-addicted serial killer to scare off new people.

“That’s a relatively complicated question about a relatively complicated person, and not one I think I should answer,” he said, finally, because it really wasn’t his secret to tell, and he’d meant what he’d said.  He did make a genuine effort to protect other people’s privacy.  “If you want to know the answer to that, you’re gonna have to talk to Duke.  Personally?  I wouldn’t.”

“Is anyone in this town _simple_?” Jennifer asked, frowning, and Dwight managed a chuckle.

“Nathan’s probably the only one of us who comes close,” he said.  “Good man, tries to do the right thing right up until his heart gets involved, then all bets are off.  Not a lot of secrets.”

“You’re not simple?” Jennifer asked, looking up at him and biting her lower lip even as she smiled, and he reached across the desk to take her hand, brushing one rough-callused thumb across the soft skin on the back of her hand.

“Unfortunately not.”  He gave her a long, slightly speculative look, and tried a smile.  “Hope that’s not a dealbreaker.”

“I think I can live with it,” she replied, her smile widening, and she was absolutely _stunning_ when she smiled.

“I hope so,” Dwight said, squeezing her hand gently before letting go and sitting back.  Jennifer leaned back as well, pulling her folder into her lap and flipping it open, and Dwight took a moment to watch her, enjoying the little lines that formed between her eyebrows as she concentrated.

Then he stood up, and took a document out of the top drawer of his desk.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, I just need to talk to Stan.”

“Okay,” Jennifer replied, not looking up from her reading, and Dwight headed out into the bullpen, making his way to Stan’s desk.

Stan was on the phone, taking down notes on a small pad; he looked up at Dwight’s approach, nodded an acknowledgement and gestured that he needed a minute, and Dwight nodded back, motioned for him to continue.  Stan went back to focusing on his call, and Dwight scanned the surface of Stan’s desk for the folder he’d noticed earlier.  He spotted it, and picked it up, leafing through it casually before tucking the document he’d brought with him in amongst the last few forms.

“Sorry about that, Chief, what can I do for you?” Stan asked, hanging up and turning to face him, and Dwight held up the folder.

“Just wanted to make sure these were the papers you’d gotten back for Duke, I told him I thought they were in.  He should drop by to sign them later, make sure he doesn’t miss anything.  The sooner we get this whole mess cleared up, the easier it’ll be to get Wade out of town, and that’s best for everyone.  We don’t exactly want another Crocker wandering around, getting into trouble.”  The lie was easy, and Stan smiled and nodded as he took the folder back.

“Yeah, I talked to my sister, this batch’ll authorize her to notify Wade of the situation- and she’ll send those papers along as soon as she can, Duke can just have Wade sign them, unless Wade plans to object to the challenge of probate in court.  Shouldn’t be much more than another week or two, assuming nobody has a problem with it.”

“Great.  Tell Stacey I said thanks, she’s really doing us all a favor taking this on.  And remind her that the department is more than happy to cover her fees, she really shouldn’t be doing this for free.”

“Stacey’s stubborn,” Stan said, looking a little wry.  “She’s not going to accept a cent, not for this.  Not after- well.  Not after what happened with Mark.  She considers herself permanently indebted.  We both do.”

“Can’t really put a price on your kids,” Dwight said, resolutely ignoring the ache in his chest.  “I get it.  Still, let her know we’re all grateful.  It’s not just Duke she’s helping out.”

“I’ll pass that along,” Stan promised, and Dwight nodded.  “I’ll let you know when the next set of papers comes in, too.”

“Thanks.”  Dwight headed back to his office, making a silent bet with himself- he gave himself five to one odds that Duke wouldn’t notice the addition he’d made, which would make things a bit easier.

And maybe he wasn’t going to swing hazard pay, but official status as a CI would make it easier to justify not arresting him later.

Dwight did try to be thorough.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about how long this took to get put together. I got hit pretty hard by a rather unpleasant bug, and on top of that, this chapter fought me tooth and nail.
> 
> Plus side, though, the next chapter is more than half written, and is not currently fighting tooth and nail, so hopefully that'll be posted on time!

Duke bumped against Nathan’s side, a hint of amusement lingering in the lines around his eyes and mouth, and Nathan raised an eyebrow, a silent demand for an explanation.

“The hell was that about?” he asked, when Duke didn’t answer his unspoken query quickly enough.

“Nothing,” Duke replied, shrugging, and Nathan glared, because that was not an acceptable answer.  Duke blinked, gave him a quick once-over, and the amusement disappeared.  “No, seriously, Dwight wanted to make sure we hadn’t actually run into a problem, had to reassure him that we weren’t failing to check in, that’s all.  Also apparently I have papers to sign when we get back, but that’s good news, so.”

“Why’d he pull you aside for that?” Nathan asked, not entirely sure what to make of that, not sure why Dwight would choose to press Duke for details, rather than talking to him.  It left him uneasy; Duke and Dwight had always seemed to be more confrontational than friendly, certainly moreso than Nathan and Dwight had been.  Though maybe that was as much the problem as anything- Nathan wasn’t exactly finding it simple to go from calling Dwight in to working under him, maybe the reverse was also true.

“Maybe because he assumes that if we’re keeping secrets, it’s my fault?” Duke replied, spreading his hands in front of him in a gesture of ‘who the hell knows why anyone does anything’.  “I dunno, Nate, just- it’s fine, it’s handled, it’s nothing.”  And given the fact that Duke had been _amused_ when he’d arrived, had been relaxed, clearly he believed that.

“Fine,” Nathan said, and it wasn’t, but he didn’t have a real argument to make, and he knew it.  Duke bumped against his side again, and Nathan wasn’t sure if it was an offer of reassurance or a silent admonishment.  “Come on, let’s get going.”

“I’ll drive, if there’s any chance at all of running into this stuff, I want us in a car that has all its windows,” Duke replied, and Nathan nodded, because he would have suggested exactly that, if Duke hadn’t gotten there first.

“Fine,” he repeated, following Duke out to his truck.  “Head up to the cove first, let’s take a look around before we try and track down our witnesses.”

“Sounds good to me,” Duke replied, shrugging.  Nathan waited until they were on the road heading up the coast before he turned and fixed Duke with a look.

“So what was that, back there?”

“What was _what_?” Duke asked, glancing over at him.

“I am not okay with Dwight leaving out information that could get us _killed_ if we step wrong,” Nathan said, the words low and angry.  “And I’m not sure why you let him have that.”

“I didn’t _let_ him have that, Nate, he _had that_ , we had no leverage.  We have an absolute minimum of leverage with _anybody_ right now.  So that?  Was politics.  Which, of the two of us?  I handle that.  You look stern and foreboding in the background.”  Duke shot another glance at him, a furrow between his brow.  “Hey.  You know I have this, right?  You can trust me to handle things like that.”

“I think you don’t always have the same priorities that I do,” Nathan replied, though he gentled his tone.  “That’s- like you said, this isn’t... easy.”  It hadn’t been easy between them in a long time, and much as Nathan trusted Duke right now, they had different ways of seeing the world.  That, that had always been true.

“My priorities are, in this order, keeping us both alive, finding Audrey, and keeping us out from under the Guard, here,” Duke said, eyes back on the road.  “All of those goals?  Made much easier if we keep Dwight on our side.  So if I have to play nice even when we’re pissed, well, that’s what I’ll do.  Besides, he’s maybe not wholly wrong.”

“Dwight keeps finding cases for us the way he has been, I’m not sure how we’re supposed to _do_ that second one,” Nathan said, and the surge of frustration that rose up was choking.  “We’re being kept so damn busy-”  He cut the words off, but Duke nodded anyway.

“I know.  I know.  We have to- we need to figure out a way to do what Dwight needs us to do, and try to-” Duke paused, grimaced, and Nathan knew he was not going to like whatever came next.  “I need to talk to Jennifer.  Try and help her... tune in.  I think that’s our best chance.”

“And you can’t do that, while we’re doing this,” Nathan said, fear sweeping in to compete with the frustration.  He clenched his fists and tried to keep his breathing level, tried to count it out, and he _hated_ this.  Hated all of it.

“Yeah,” Duke said, and he didn’t sound any happier about it than Nathan felt, which, honestly, was not half as satisfying as it probably would have been, six months ago.  There was no sense of victory in seeing Duke uncomfortable, no petty schadenfreude- misery, it seemed, had lost its taste for company.  “Which is kind of a problem.”

“It’s- we don’t really have a lot of options,” Nathan said, voice flat.  “We _need_ to find her, Duke.”

“I _know_ ,” Duke replied, the words sharp with frustration.  “I know, Nate,” he said again, softer.  “I just don’t know how to make this work without leaving somebody exposed.”

“We may just have to take that chance,” Nathan said.  And he hated it, he hated suggesting it, hated that it was _necessary_ , but it’d been a _week_.  It’d been a week, and they’d made no progress.

It’d been a week, and instead of tearing the world apart looking for her, he was distracting himself with-

-with whatever this was.

With sex, with food, with contact and company and _comfort_ , and he had no right to any of it.  He had no right to peaceful nights and quiet dreaming.  Had no right to the overwhelming, fierce loyalty Duke had offered- the loyalty that put protecting _him_ above finding Audrey.

He’d done this, he’d made this mess.  People were suffering because of his decisions, he had _no right_ to be worried about his own trivial concerns.

It might not have been useful, but at least when he’d been trading money for beatings, he’d been doing some kind of penance.  This, this thing he was doing, wasn’t penance.  This was a luxury he couldn’t afford, one he was buying with a lie.

“-orrow, try to...  Nate?”

Duke was speaking, was obviously trying to get his attention, but Nathan hadn’t heard the words, had lost them under the rushing in his ears, guilt and anger and more guilt, heavy leaden weights that dulled his senses and dragged on his thoughts.  He couldn’t focus, couldn’t pull himself together, couldn’t-

-something smokey and pungent and sharp assaulted his nose, and Nathan jerked backwards, away from whatever it was, coughing and shaking his head.

“Come on, Nate, are you with me?” Duke asked, tone urgent and hoarse, and Nathan blinked, tried to focus.  The truck wasn’t moving, his door was open, Duke was leaning over him, looking carefully blank.  He had a little wooden stick in one hand, which was giving off sharply scented smoke.

“I-” Nathan coughed again, and leaned further away from the smoke.  “The _hell_ is that?”

“Palo santo,” Duke replied, looking relieved and annoyed in equal measure as he withdrew the stick and bent down to snuff it out.  “I would have used something stronger, but I don’t actually carry smelling salts in the damn truck.”

“What...”

“You stopped responding.  At all.  Went all grey and clammy, too, which, really not a good thing.  You want to tell me what the hell that was?”  Duke was radiating tension, now, the careful blankness disappearing now that he was getting responses.

“I...  It...”  Nathan wasn’t entirely sure he could explain the crushing, suffocating guilt, the overwhelming sense of _despair_ that had hit him.  Wasn’t sure how it was _different_ , how it could possibly have been enough to incapacitate him, how he could have _allowed_ it to.  How he could possibly be that _weak_ , after everything.

“Come on, Nate, talk to me,” Duke said, voice gentling.  He reached up, caught Nathan’s chin in his hand, shifting back along Nathan’s cheek- deliberate, making sure Nathan could see the movement, see the contact- before presumably settling with his fingers in Nathan’s hair.  “I need to know what’s going on, or I can’t help.”

Nathan didn’t want to be _helped_.  Didn’t want to be touched with such concern.  Didn’t want Duke to look at him like he _cared_.

He didn’t deserve that.

“Nothing,” Nathan managed, shaking his head, trying to lean away from Duke’s hand.  “Nothing’s going on.”

“Nathan-”

“Leave it _alone_ , Duke,” he snapped, harsher than he needed to be, harsher than he could afford to be, because he had no right to this, didn’t deserve it, but he still _needed_ it.

Needed the support, needed the concern, needed the comfort.  Needed everything Duke would give him, and he couldn’t think too closely about what kind of person that made him.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” Duke replied, voice cool and level, head tilted slightly to the side.  “You scared the crap out of me, you owe me a little bit more to work with than _nothing_.”

“I’m fine,” Nathan gritted out, wishing the lie weren’t so obvious, reaching up to knock Duke’s hand away, breaking contact, and he could see the flicker of surprise, the split second of alarm and disbelief before Duke masked it.  “I just- it’s _nothing_.”

“... That’s how you want to do this?” Duke asked, voice low with anger and disappointment as he pulled back.  “Fine.  It’s _nothing_.  Do I get a guide, levels of nothing, which types of nothing I should worry about and which types I should ignore?”

“Duke...”  Nathan didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to get _out_ of this.  How to demand the space that was the only way he knew to handle things, even if it wasn’t actually what he wanted.  Didn’t know how to _want_ that space, anymore, didn’t know how to put aside the strangling need for contact and reassurance.

“Next time you look like you’ve thought yourself into some kind of attack, I’m calling the paramedics, you can tell _them_ it’s nothing,” Duke said, shoulders pulled tense into a sharp, accusatory line, eyes dark with emotion Nathan couldn’t process.

“Don’t,” Nathan said, the word sharper than he’d expected, and Duke glared at him.

“Don’t _what_ , Nathan?  Exhibit basic concern for your welfare?  Because I think we’re a little past the point of pretending I _don’t care_!”

And that was part of the problem, was part of what made all this so laughably wrong.  Years, _years_ of treating each other like enemies, of undermining each other, of pretending _not to care_ \- and now, _now_ they were past that point.  Now, when it was a disaster in the making, when it could only end in ruin.

Nathan never should have let this happen.  Should never have allowed either of them to read more into it than it was.

It would maybe have been easier not to do that if he had any idea at all what that meant.

“You shouldn’t,” Nathan said, exhaling the words on a weary sigh.  Duke looked, for a second, like he was going to come back with a sharp remark, something angry and bitter and _easy_ , something that fit the comfortably worn antagonism between them, but he caught himself, and Nathan wasn’t sure he wasn’t disappointed by that.  Nathan wasn’t sure he wasn’t disappointed that Duke didn’t just haul off and hit him.

Funny; now he understood the appeal.

“Nate,” Duke said, the word soft and wheedling.  “Please.  Everything we’ve been through, you really think there’s a chance, _now_ , that you’re gonna convince me of that?”

“No,” Nathan said, the single word laden with defeat, heavy with frustration.  It didn’t make sense, it wasn’t any kind of reasonable.  By all rights, Duke should hate him.  Nathan had certainly turned on Duke for less, over the years.  But everything they’d been through, everything Nathan had done and not done, and Duke was still _there_.

“Then stop wasting time and energy trying, we have more important things to do.”  Duke reached out again, hesitating with his hand just within touching distance, not there, but close enough that Nathan could make contact just by leaning.

Coming back, when Nathan pushed him away.  Again.

Nathan leaned, closing the gap, and some small fraction of tension went out of Duke’s frame, and it was a problem, it was so very definitely a problem, and Nathan... couldn’t deal with it right now.  Couldn’t make it right.

Needed this too much to pull away.

“You okay for now?” Duke asked, and Nathan could hear the frustration banked in the words, could tell that Duke was still upset that Nathan wasn’t telling him anything, but he was done asking.  Nathan took the out, and nodded.

“Yeah.  I’m okay.  Sorry.”

Duke gave him a look that plainly said he’d be calling bullshit on both parts of that statement if he wasn’t unwilling to keep fighting over it, but he sighed and traced his thumb along the line of Nathan’s cheek before he pulled away.

“Yeah, right.  Okay.”  Duke turned and closed the door, headed back around the front of the truck to get back in on the driver’s side, pulled his own door shut with a little too much force for the air of calm he was obviously trying to portray.

Nathan reached over, hesitantly resting one hand on Duke’s thigh, and Duke shot him a look heavy with suspicion, but he still relaxed slightly at the touch.  Nathan left his hand where it was, and Duke started the truck back up, and pulled back onto the road.  

***

“So.  Tomorrow,” Duke said, casting a sideways glance at Nathan, still crawlingly unsettled.  He wasn’t sure what exactly had happened, what had triggered the sudden silence, the abrupt shutdown.  It wasn’t anything he hadn’t _seen_ , because he’d been in a lot of rough places, and sometimes people just... _stopped_ , under pressure, but he couldn’t avoid triggering another attack if he didn’t know what the trigger was in the first place.

Whatever it was, that hadn’t looked like a fear response.  Panic attacks, he knew how to handle, he’d seen Nathan do that a couple of times, now, had been able to distract him when it looked like he might be heading into one, but the symptoms were different.  Nathan hadn’t been keyed up, he’d been shut down.

He wished he’d taken more time to talk to Claire about what she actually _did_.  As it was, he had a patchwork kit of tools to work with, things his various teachers had mentioned while he was traveling, things he’d observed and learned on his own, things he’d read about but never actually _tried_ , and all of it would be a lot damn easier to use if Nathan would actually _talk_ to him.

Stubborn, emotionally-repressed _jackass_.

“Tomorrow?” Nathan asked, waiting for the rest of the thought, and Duke sighed.

“It’s Founder’s Day.  Jennifer hasn’t had a chance to actually _see_ anything that hasn’t been directly related to whatever we’re working on, or whatever Dwight has her doing.”

“...And?” Nathan asked, frowning.

“And she’s a human person with interests that probably range a little beyond creepy supernatural police work, it’d probably be good for her to get out and wander around.  Get to play tourist, take in the sights.  Tomorrow’s a good day for it,” Duke pointed out, because seriously, Jennifer had been to the Gull, the supermarket, the hospital, and the police station, and that- that was not good, really.  They _all_ owed her a little better than that.

“Thought Jennifer didn’t want to go wandering alone,” Nathan replied, frown deepening, a note of confusion in his tone.

“I’m not talking about sending her out _alone_.  Particularly not after what Beatty said.  I’m talking about showing her around, trying to make her feel _comfortable_.  She sounded excited about the whole small-town-festival thing when Dwight mentioned it the other night, it might be good.  Help her settle, help her... form connections.”  Duke paused, gave himself a second to push through the overwhelming discomfort of the thought, and continued.  “If we have to take the risk anyway, seems like it’d be as good a time as any.”  Nathan obviously disagreed, given how sharply his grip changed, and Duke hissed out a sigh and caught his wrist.  “Easy,” he cautioned, and Nathan let go quickly.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, we need to get you a stress ball or something, you’re like a damn cat, you dig in every time you get tense,” Duke grumbled, though he could certainly think of _worse_ ways Nathan could react.  He kept his hold on Nathan’s wrist, kept up the contact so that Nathan couldn’t actually pull away, and shook his head.  “Anyway.  Do you have an opinion other than _no_?”

“I didn’t say no,” Nathan griped.  “I didn’t say anything.”

“Sorry, I just assumed the no was implied,” Duke replied, scowling.  “What with the attempt to provide a trendy new piercing, and all.”  Nathan tried to pull away, and Duke tightened his grip on his wrist, keeping him close.  And Duke should have known better, should have known that Nathan would go into full retreat at the jibe, but he was tense and unsettled and _annoyed_.  He didn’t like Nathan shutting him out, didn’t like the sense that something significant had happened and it was something he couldn’t immediately interpret.

He wished it didn’t feel quite so much like he was throwing sevens after every easy six, wished it didn’t feel quite so much like he was taking two steps in one direction for each three in another, without even a map to let him know which direction might be the _right_ one.

He wished he didn’t care so damn much about not fucking this up.

“I said I was sorry,” Nathan said, trying once more to twist his hand free, and Duke gave up, let him pull back.

“Yeah, I know, I don’t- it’s not a thing, I don’t _care_ , that’s not- you know what, never mind.  It’s fine, it’s not a thing.  Just been a challenging morning.”

“...Yeah,” Nathan said, and it somehow didn’t sound like agreement.

“Anyway,” Duke said again, and Nathan grimaced.

“It’s a good idea.  I don’t like it.”  Which, while not exactly helpful, was pretty much how Duke felt about it, too, so he couldn’t exactly complain.  No matter how much he wanted to.

“Yeah.  That’s about what I figured.”  Duke smiled, a wry, bitter twist of lips, and cut a glance in Nathan’s direction.  “Is that a ‘don’t do it’, don’t like it, or a ‘lie back and think of England’ don’t like it?”

“It’s a ‘do what you have to do’ don’t like it,” Nathan replied, looking decidedly discomforted.  “Preferably without the creepy Victorian marriage advice.”

“Edwardian,” Duke corrected, and Nathan shot him a look absolutely loaded with judgement- and that should not be _reassuring_ , but it was something a little closer to normal, so.  “What?  I _read_ , Nathan.”

“It still disturbs me that you know that,” Nathan said, watching him sidelong.

“What, but it was okay that you could guess Victorian?” Duke returned, deliberately letting a hint of mock indignation creep into his tone, because this, he understood.  The teasing back-and-forth, the playful mocking, this was familiar territory, was taking a step back onto solid ground.

“It was a _wild guess_ ,” Nathan said, as though that actually made a difference.  “And _what_ , exactly, are you reading?”

“Apparently more educational books than you are,” Duke replied, shrugging, going for casual.  “Want some recommendations?”

“No, I really don’t.”

“You sure?  If you’re willing to work for it, I have this one book in Italian-”

“ _No_ ,” Nathan said, and he looked like he was fighting not to smile, which was at least a substantial fucking improvement over looking like death warmed over.  It wasn’t _entirely_ satisfactory, given that Duke still didn’t know what the hell had _happened_ , but he’d take visible improvement if that was the best he could get.  He’d take tepid amusement and awkward banter and swallowing his concerns if it at least got them back to something resembling equilibrium.

He missed Audrey.  Audrey was her own kind of spectacularly difficult, but she had _nothing_ on Nathan in terms of sheer frustration generated.

“You’re missing out,” Duke said, flashing a bright smile, putting just enough effort into it to make it look real.  “I am telling you, you want _educational_ , you go for Italian translations of some of the old Latin stuff.”

“I can’t even tell if that’s supposed to be implying something,” Nathan replied, and he broke, the smile he’d been suppressing finally winning out, and it was a petty victory, but it was a victory nonetheless, and Duke added it to his tally.

“Or, y’know, if you’re really into the classics, there’s always Greek.  Some of those plays were... descriptive.”

“You read Greek?” Nathan asked, and there was actual interest there, now.

“No, unfortunately, I do not.  Didn’t spend enough time there to really buckle down and learn, I mostly did weekend trips while we were in Italy, and after that, I was moving around a lot,” Duke said, willing to follow the tangent if it kept Nathan engaged.

“‘We’?” Nathan asked, and Duke blinked, a quick flutter of panic sweeping through him, and he wondered how the hell he’d made _that_ mistake.  However nice it was that Nathan was willing to hear about some of Duke’s experiences while he’d been traveling, Duke was pretty sure there were a few things that would _not_ go over well.  Claudia and Marc were almost definitely on that list.

“I met some people in France, rented out space on the Rouge to them while I was local-ish,” he said, and it wasn’t quite a lie.

“You rented out space?  What space?”

“Space that is currently dedicated storage,” Duke said, which was also technically true.  There _was_ a different living suite on the Rouge, which Nathan had actually _seen_ , had actually _used_ once or twice, when he’d had it kitted out for company- it wasn’t as convenient, given that it was out of the way and further from the kitchen, but it was bigger.  It’d been a lot easier to fit three people in comfortably.

Duke had removed every trace of livability from it just after striking France entirely from his operational space, right up to getting rid of the furniture and building shelves into the walls.  Assuming Wade hadn’t touched it, it was probably full of empty packing crates.

He should probably consider converting it _back_ , at this point, if only because there was the slim chance he’d actually _need_ a guest room.  Having an extra bed might come in handy.

He refused to be optimistic enough to consider that he might need more space.  He wasn’t that lucky.

“What else do you read?” Nathan asked, apparently deciding that Duke’s answer was not so much evasive as uninteresting, which Duke was grateful for.  He’d much rather discuss language.  It was way less likely to end in having to admit anything too personal.

“Besides Italian?  Spanish, Russian, Japanese, Chinese, Hindi-Urdu, and Portuguese.”

“Not French?”

“Enough to read a menu, not enough to read an academic paper.”  Nathan gave him a curious look, and he shrugged.  “What, it’s a decent measure.”

“You said you could manage conversation in a couple others.”

“French- I speak it more comfortably than I read it- Berber, Thai, and Malay.”

“Berber?”

“Common in North Africa.  Morocco, Algeria.  I didn’t pick up a lot of it, just enough to get by when I really needed to.”

“And you just... picked them up?”  Nathan sounded dubious, and Duke laughed.

“As much as I would love to make it sound that easy, no.  I worked my ass off, did the whole language tapes thing for a couple of them, did the full immersion thing for a couple of them- one nice thing about transport jobs, when pretty much all you have to do is get from point a to point b, you do end up with time on your hands.  I studied.  A lot.  And I talked to people.”  Duke had absolutely hated the sense of helpless frustration that he’d felt when he’d first started exploring, and hadn’t understood what was being said, hadn’t been able to read signs or menus or instructions on packages- so he’d fixed it, the only way he could.  He’d _worked_ for it.

Mostly, he’d enjoyed it; mostly, it’d been _satisfying_ , and he’d gotten a genuine thrill out of being able to talk to people on their terms, and do it well.  And he’d been _good_ at it, which had been satisfying in a different way, when he was still trying to figure out who he was, when he wasn’t defined by who he’d been in Haven.  When he wasn’t the one everyone thought would fail, when they ever bothered to spare a thought for him at all.

Once or twice, though, it had been sink or swim in the worst kind of way, and he’d learned the same way he’d learned to steal.   _Quickly_.  Because, as with theft, failure had meant the kind of consequences one didn’t always walk away from.  He still had a fairly antagonistic relationship with Russian; he made a point of keeping that particular language sharp mostly out of spite.

“This point, I’m pretty rusty on a few of them,” he added  “It’s hard to practice in Haven, I’m not exactly running into people who speak Berber or Malay every other day.”

“You running into _anyone_ who speaks... _any_ of that?” Nathan asked, looking genuinely curious.

“Well, I pull out the French more often than I’d like, but, y’know, we are pretty much Canada adjacent.  Spanish, Hindi, Russian, Chinese, Japanese, I use all of those pretty regularly- a couple of my regular... well, they _were_ regular contacts, that’s going to be a mess to fix, damnit-”

“You really planning to fix... all that?” Nathan asked quietly, and Duke sent a quick glance in his direction, cautious and uncertain.

“It’s what I do, Nate,” he replied carefully, hands tightening on the steering wheel, because this was the sort of topic that tended to end badly.

“It doesn’t have to be.”  Nathan wasn’t looking at him, had his eyes fixed out the window, but there was a tension to his posture that was anything but casual.

“You wanna tell me what you’re thinking, here, instead of making me guess?” Duke asked, trying to keep his tone level, trying not to read judgement into those words- well, trying not to take _offense_ , anyway, judgement was just kind of assumed.  Had been assumed for... a long while now.  But he didn’t want to fight, and maybe...  Maybe things were different enough that they could talk about this.  Maybe.

“Just...”  Nathan paused, shifted in his seat, and it almost funny, that he still _fidgeted_ sometimes, but only when his discomfort was emotional.  “Look, what you said, last night.  That you didn’t have options.  Maybe- maybe that was true, then.  But you have options now.”

“...”  Duke wished Nathan wasn’t still studiously avoiding looking in his direction, wished he could get a read on his expression.  Though it was probably as carefully neutral as his tone had been, which-  “Look, Nate, how about we talk about my future employment when we’re a little more sure that’s going to be a concern at all,” he said, shaking his head, because _maybe_ wasn’t worth the risk, just yet.  Not when this was all still new and fragile, not when _they_ were still kinda fragile.  Maybe, at some point, they could deal with that whole lawman-criminal _thing_ , and _maybe_ Nathan had a point, but for now, there were more important things to focus on.  “Right now, I’m more worried about keeping us breathing than about how to pay the bills.”

“That’s a cheerful way to look at it,” Nathan chided, and Duke forced a relaxed smile.

“What can I say, I’m an optimist.”

“You’re _something_ ,” Nathan replied, but he adjusted, stopped staring out the window like he was gonna find answers if he looked long enough, and Duke was fairly sure he wasn’t going to press the issue any further.  “...How _are_ you paying for things, actually?” Nathan asked, after a moment.  “Your cards must all have been turned off.”

“And this is why keeping money in coffee cans isn’t always the worst possible plan,” Duke replied, shrugging.  “I always did prefer cash.”

“You’re not actually joking, are you.”

“Nope.  C’mon, Nate, you’ve seen how I get paid, you think I can walk into a bank with a duffel bag full of hundreds and nobody’s going to ask any questions?”

“I think I probably didn’t actually want the answer to that question.”

“Oh, because you kept all of your finances in perfect order while on the run and hiding out at crappy truckstop bars?”

“...Point.”

“Thought so.”  Duke drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, and sat back, tried to keep his pose relaxed, tried to feign ease and calm.  And it was wearing, it was exhausting, trying to keep them both floating along like this, but what other choice did he have?

It wasn’t exactly as though he had anyone he could ask for help.

Even if it _was_ something he’d ever consider.

***

Nathan had them stop at several places along the edge of the cove, where they got out and looked around, examined the ground and the trees, the trails and the road, looking for anything out of place before moving on.  There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that stood out, at any of the first few places they stopped.  The last place he directed Duke to was the location where Walt McPhee had actually disappeared, and it, like the others, seemed fairly normal.

“There is nothing here,” Duke said, for maybe the fourth time, and he sounded so immensely disgruntled that Nathan almost laughed, despite the uneasy mood that was still making itself felt.

“I’m really not sure what you thought we were gonna find,” Nathan replied, following the tire tracks Laci had left in the soft earth of the coastal field that abutted the woods.  “Other than circles of some variety, which, really, kind of a long shot.”

“Shut up,” Duke grumbled, kicking a rock and sending it skittering under the treeline.  “I expected, I dunno, _something_.  Wisps of fog coiling around the base of trees in a convenient straight line back to our problem, or, y’know, _flickering lights_ , or something.  Your job is _boring_.  I don’t remember it being this boring.”

“You’re just spoiled,” Nathan said, shaking his head, glad for the distraction, glad for something to focus on that was easy and insignificant.  “We only ever pulled you in on cases when things were _happening_.  You didn’t have to do the hours of wandering around in circles trying to figure out where to start, talking to people who’d prefer to pretend there was a reasonable explanation for everything, trying to piece together the who and the what and the why from scraps of information.”

“Your job is _boring_ ,” Duke repeated.  “And that’s not entirely true.  Pretty sure I remember _being_ one of those people you talked to, a couple of times.  Actually, a lot of times.  Usually a day or two before one or the other of you showed up to ask me to _help_.”

“Like I said, we only pulled you in when things were _happening_ ,” Nathan said, shrugging.  “But you’re right, I don’t think there’s anything here.  And you didn’t have to help.  You could’ve said no.”

“Yeah, right.  Neither one of you ever did take _no_ for an answer,” Duke replied, and there was actual affection in the words, which threw Nathan a little.  Duke had always been very vocal about _not_ appreciating how quick they were to drag him into their cases- except when he was trying to prove something- so it was strange to hear him talk about it as though it was something he _missed_.  Particularly given that he was, actually, in the middle of working a case.  And actively complaining about it.  “Though I gotta say, I think I appreciate only ever being tagged in at the end, this _sucks_.”

“What’s going on?” Nathan asked, frowning at him, catching _something_ in his voice on those last few words, something beyond the casual boredom he’d been exuding.  “You weren’t this restless with the bugs, or the quakes.”  Though Duke had gotten _quiet_ when they were dealing with the earthquakes, unusually so, and there’d been at least once when he’d actually frozen up, so maybe not the best example of handling a long case with patience.  Which was something else Nathan should _probably_ ask about, just in case it became an issue later- better to _know_ if there was a problem than be surprised by it at a bad moment.  Not that earthquakes were particularly common in Maine, but it _was_ Haven.

“We figured the bugs out in like, half a day.  We’ve been at this for hours, and we’re nowhere,” Duke countered.  “I dunno, I just- maybe I’m just not cut out for a nine to five, after all,” he said, glancing down, a hint of what might’ve been apology in his pose- well hidden beneath a defensiveness that Nathan was a little wary of.

“Is this about what I said earlier?” Nathan asked carefully, not wanting to spark a fight- needing a few hours, at least, before they jumped back into cutting words and defensiveness- but wanting to know if he’d caused a whole new kind of problem.

“What?  No.  No, it’s- okay, yeah, maybe.  No.  I dunno, it’s been a long week, my clock is all screwed up, it’s making me edgy.”

“Your clock?” Nathan asked, not immediately understanding, and Duke shrugged uneasily.

“I mean, I _know_ it’s May.  I know the days are getting longer, not shorter.  I know it’s spring, not heading into winter.  I _know_ all of that, but I don’t _feel_ it, and it’s- we’re inside most of the day, when we’re not doing field work, and I didn’t show up at the damn _restaurant_ this regularly, I’m not used to _being somewhere_ every morning.  And I keep _forgetting_ things, because I can’t seem to process that I lost half a damn _year_.  I should have checked the tanks on the Rouge as soon as I got back, and I didn’t.  I don’t know how much fuel she has.  I haven’t done a proper weapons inventory, and that’s just fucking _careless_.  And I know I should do all of it, but I did half of that _last week_ , by my count.  And it’s tripping me up every time I turn around and realize that it’s been a lot longer than that.”

“It’s hard to imagine,” Nathan said, and his voice was rough, hoarse, and Duke looked wary, suddenly, looked concerned, and Nathan wished it was easier for him to keep his voice level, but it was hard sometimes without being able to feel the signals that would have told him something was off.  “It’s hard to believe that it really was just the blink of an eye for you.”  That the longest six months of Nathan’s life had been _seconds_ to Duke.  They’d seen a lot of impossible things, doing what they did, but that...  That was hard to process.

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to imagine we’re the same age now,” Duke replied, obviously trying for humor, obviously trying to distract him- he smiled, but there was a wariness to it, concern just barely visible under his easy amusement.  “I mean, six months- you caught up.”

“Seriously?” Nathan asked, letting the distraction work, letting Duke have that win.  It was worth it to keep skipping along over the surface of things, to keep from getting tangled up in issues they couldn’t solve.  “Seriously, this is still a thing?”

“Well, no, that’s kind of what I was getting at,” Duke replied, glib.  “Can’t use that anymore.”

“You haven’t been able to use that since we were _ten_ ,” Nathan replied, a note of well-worn exasperation creeping into his voice, because this argument had gotten old before they’d hit junior high.  “Not that it ever stopped you from trying.”

“Hey, come on, it was a legit issue when we went to Miami,” Duke replied, flashing a smile, and Nathan rolled his eyes.

“No, it wasn’t, because first of all, half the clubs down there weren’t checking ID at all, and second of all, the fake I had would have gotten me a job at a goddamn government agency, nobody at a bar was going to call me out.”

“Yes, and who was the voice of experience who _got_ you that ID?” Duke asked, and Nathan couldn’t quite keep down a smile, couldn’t quite resist the glint of amusement in Duke’s eyes.  It was so easy to get pulled in.

“That had _nothing to do_ with you being six months older, it had to do with you knowing a guy who made excellent fake IDs,” Nathan replied, shaking his head, but he was still smiling.

“Voice of experience,” Duke repeated, grinning, drifting close enough to bump against Nathan’s side, the contact casual and comfortable and affectionate.

“Not anymore,” Nathan replied, elbowing him.  “Dunno what you’re gonna do with yourself now.”

“I dunno.  It’s quite an adjustment,” Duke said, still grinning.  “Maybe I’ll have to start taking lookout, letting you do the real work.”

“That what we’ve _been_ doing,” Nathan replied, motioning to the not-quite-crime-scene, and Duke paused and considered that for longer than Nathan thought was necessary.

“...Shit.  I think you’re actually right,” he said, looking a little taken aback by that.  “You, you are underhanded.”

“I learned from the best,” Nathan replied dryly, elbowing Duke again, and Duke gave him a look Nathan couldn’t quite interpret before he smiled, and it wasn’t one of his usual grins, it was softer and smaller and worrying in its sincerity.  “...Anyway.  Come on, there’s nothing here.  Let’s go find our witnesses.”

“Whatever you say, Detective,” Duke said, still smiling, and Nathan gave him a push back in the direction of the truck.  Duke went, and maybe they weren’t quite settled yet, but at least some of the weight had faded.

For now.

**  
**They didn’t get anything new from the witnesses, which wasn’t really that much of a surprise.  Vince and Dave were equally unhelpful, though Nathan was deeply unsettled when he glanced up from the old clippings he was going over with Vince to find that Duke was across the room having a hushed, hurried conversation with Dave.  He’d positioned himself so that Nathan could only see his back, and Nathan wasn’t sure if that was intentional or not, but it put him on edge, particularly since Duke’s shoulders were tight and the curve of his spine sharp, his head canted to the side in a way that could either imply or parody respect, his hands moving in quick, short bursts- he was agitated, but not aggressively so, nervous but not angry, and that was... odd. **  
**

But then, Duke had said that it was Dave who’d pointed him in Nathan’s direction, which meant both that Duke had trusted Dave enough to ask him, and that Dave had been willing to help Duke.  Obviously, there was a substantial difference in the way Duke interacted with Dave as opposed to Vince.

Which might actually be helpful down the line, so on edge or not, Nathan turned his attention to the work at hand and left them to their conversation.

When they left, they had a list of five possibilities, each unlikely, and it was late enough in the afternoon that Nathan didn’t see any benefit in trying to track them all down until tomorrow.  Dwight, after all, owed them a conversation, and Nathan wanted to have a clear and simple task for the next day, something he could do with one of the uniforms along for backup if Duke actually planned on taking the day off.  Which, really, Nathan should have considered he might _need_.

Duke, after all, _wasn’t a cop_.  Duke certainly had no real obligation to show up to a job he wasn’t being paid for, one that was physically taxing and emotionally draining, every day, without any promise of a break in the routine.  Nathan should have remembered that.  Shouldn’t have _expected_ that.

Duke, after all, wasn’t the one with penance to pay.

Nathan wasn’t sure what left a worse taste in his mouth; the idea that he’d simply _expected_ Duke to take on that load and to step into that role without any difficulties, the fact that Duke seemingly _couldn’t_ , or his own unreasonable sense of _disappointment_.

At least the fear made _sense_.

Duke kept up a constant run of light conversation on the drive back to the station, not giving Nathan the opportunity to ask what he’d been talking to Dave about, or the chance to fall back into his bleak, overwhelming mood from earlier, and it really was amazing how much Duke could _talk_ without saying anything at all.  How much he could get Nathan to talk, when the last thing he wanted was to open his mouth and risk any of his own thoughts coming out.

By the time they were back in Nathan’s office, Nathan was thoroughly distracted, and Duke looked like he _hadn’t_ spent most of the day tense.  It wasn’t long before Dwight appeared, looking substantially less defensive than he had when they’d called him on his selective presentation of information earlier.

“You two get anything?” Dwight asked, pulling the door shut behind him with just enough force to indicate to anyone _outside_ that he didn’t want to be disturbed; Nathan knew the gesture, had used it himself more than once when he’d been talking over something sensitive with Audrey, or Duke, or Dwight himself.  Clearly, he was prepared for a long conversation; Nathan appreciated that he’d approached them, that he wasn’t putting them off- of course, he would have appreciated it more a week ago, when he’d been sitting down to get an overview of what had been happening when he was in hiding.

“Got some leads to follow up on tomorrow,” Nathan replied, shrugging- and never mind that they weren’t particularly promising leads.  That was a problem for tomorrow.

“Good,” Dwight replied, crossing over to lean against the wall near Nathan’s desk, deliberately casual- which was only slightly undermined by the fact that choosing not to take one of the empty seats in the room kept him towering over Nathan and Duke, who _were_ sitting down.  Nathan flicked a glance at Duke, who met his gaze with the faintest hint of a crooked smile and a quick dip of his eyes- he recognized the play, clearly, and was neither impressed nor annoyed.  He followed his acknowledgement with a narrowing of his eyes, and tilted his head just slightly in silent inquiry, plainly asking if Nathan had a problem with it, if he wanted to change the balance.  Nathan shook his head, just barely.  They were fine with this, for now, it wasn’t actually a problem.  “You two wanted to have a conversation.”

“Yes, we did,” Nathan agreed, leaning back in his seat.  Duke shifted his chair around, giving himself a better angle to participate without spending the whole time looking half over his shoulder at Dwight.  “We need to know what the situation out there looks like.  What it _really_ looks like.”

“Are you really sure you want to do this?” Dwight asked, glancing between the two of them.  Duke glanced at Nathan, and shrugged.

“We know we can’t fix it,” Duke said, sounding as serious as he ever did.  “But we need to know what we’re up against, anyway.”

“Fine.  Don’t let it distract you- none of us can afford it.”  Dwight frowned, looked considering, like he wasn’t quite sure where to start, and Duke gave Nathan another faintly questioning look.  Nathan let his gaze drop for a second, a quick acknowledgement, and Duke turned his attention back to Dwight.

“Wanna start with just what’s going on between you and Vince?” Duke asked, and Dwight managed a wry smile.

“Not particularly, but it’s as good a place as any, I suppose.”  His momentary amusement disappeared, and Nathan felt a swell of sympathy- he had more than an inkling of what was creating at least some of the tension there.  He remembered Dwight telling him that the Guard was at least partly responsible for his daughter’s death- finding out that Vince was in charge of the Guard had probably been a particularly cutting revelation, and it couldn’t be easy for Dwight to put that aside for the greater good.  “You have to understand that right after the Barn disappeared, no one was in charge.  It was a mess.  The Selectmen were scrambling, we _still_ don’t have a mayor- amazingly enough, no one seems to want that job- and...” Dwight glanced at Nathan, and gave a slight, apologetic shrug.  “The police were without any clear leader.”  Nathan saw Duke tense, and rolled his fingers along the edge of his desk, drawing his attention- and tapping them twice once he had it.  Duke’s expression tightened, but he kept his mouth shut, letting the words pass without comment.

Dwight paused, looking between the two of them, but continued when neither of them spoke.

“Vince stepped up.  He put the Guard out on the streets, and to be honest, we needed them, because there were a lot of angry people prepared to make some very bad decisions, and they kept the situation from boiling over.  And he put pressure on the Selectmen to fill in the gap here as quickly as possible, and handed the police off to me, because I wasn’t completely unknown to them, more than a few of them knew I’d worked for Nathan- which helped with some of them, and they helped with the rest- and because I know my way around a good cover-up.”

“Vince expected you to toe the line, to keep taking orders,” Nathan said, eyes narrow.  “He thought he could keep you on a leash, and between the police and the Guard, he’d have a tool for every job.”

“That is pretty much exactly what he expected,” Dwight confirmed.  “And by the time he realized I wasn’t going to let that happen, I had enough of the department on my side that he couldn’t afford to try and force me out.”

“Bet he didn’t like that,” Duke said dryly, but there was a hint of amusement in the words.

“He was less than pleased, yes,” Dwight said.  “Which is part of the problem.  He’s of the opinion that I stepped out of line.  I’m of the opinion that I quit the Guard years ago, I wasn’t on his line to begin with.  And we have a fundamental conflict in our approach to this situation- Vince only looks at things from one angle.  I have to do more than that.  I can’t put the well being of any one person, Troubled or not, above the well being of the whole town.”  Dwight put more emphasis than he needed to on that last sentence, and he fixed Duke with a decidedly pointed look; Duke looked right back, a defiant edge to his posture, steel in the set of his spine.

“So you two clashed on procedure,” Nathan said, trying to bring them back to the actual purpose of this conversation, because letting them stare each other down was not productive and honestly, they didn’t have time for that battle.

“Yes.  And the more we clash, the more serious he gets about trying to either bring me to heel or get me out of the way.  He’s had the Guard active and involved in places where it doesn’t belong, he’s been getting more aggressive about insisting on having his people involved in police investigations, he’s as determined as ever not to share any information he doesn’t absolutely have to.”  Dwight frowned, jaw tense and expression dour.  Nathan could sympathize; Dwight’s job wasn’t a pleasant one to start with, and having someone else constantly pushing, constantly interfering, making things harder...  It had to be maddening.

Particularly when it was someone who had a fundamentally different set of priorities.

“He’s been undermining you, and you haven’t had the leverage to push back,” Duke said, a note of wry amusement in his voice.  “Because he’s established, he’s got resources, he’s got his own private army with powers.  You’ve got the visible authority, but he’s got years of pulling strings.”

“Pretty much,” Dwight replied, eyes narrowing, like he couldn’t quite figure out why Duke found that funny.  Nathan wasn’t entirely sure why Duke found that funny, either- Duke wasn’t a fan of Vince, so finding out how much the balance of power was tipped in his favor wasn’t exactly good news.

“No wonder you pushed so hard to get Nathan wearing a badge again,” Duke said, nodding like he approved.  “You couldn’t give Vince time to think that through.”  Nathan tapped on the edge of his desk, drawing Duke’s attention, and gave him a questioning look, and Duke shrugged.  “Leverage.  You’re the most valuable piece on the board right now- one half of the victory condition.  Whoever has you on their side gains a pretty substantial advantage- Dwight damn near leveled the field in one move.”

“Damn near,” Dwight agreed, a hint of amusement of his own showing now that he’d been let in on the joke.  Nathan considered for a minute, and shook his head.

“Wasn’t just me, though, was it,” he said, because he was only useful in the abstract, in the potentially-when.  The people he’d brought with him, however...

“No, it’s not,” Dwight acknowledged.

“Jennifer, she’s got a connection to the Barn, who knows what else she might know, what else she might find out if she starts trying to _use_ her Trouble.  That’s major,” Nathan said, and Duke nodded slowly, looking a little less amused by that, but he was protective of Jennifer, probably didn’t much like the idea of her being figured into this score.  He was going to like the next bit even less, honestly, but Nathan needed to understand how well Dwight knew the field.  “And then there’s Duke.  How many resources were you putting into Wade?”

“Too many,” Dwight replied, confirming what Nathan had expected.  Duke had gone tense in his seat, obviously not pleased, and Dwight gave him a vaguely apologetic look.  “Wade showing up was a complication.  The Guard wanted him gone, and they didn’t care how.  The Shepherds wanted him hunting, figured if the Troubles weren’t ending the ‘normal’ way, the best thing they could do was end them the other way.  I’ve had teams on him since the day he arrived, just trying to keep everyone else from getting near him.  It’s taking up resources I can’t afford to spend, but I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“The Shepherds?” Nathan asked, frowning.  There was more in that response that didn’t quite fit, something he needed to chase down- but Shepherds sounded entirely too familiar, and Dwight nodded.

“What’s left of the Rev’s men.  Not particularly organized, they don’t have a real leader- which makes them harder to pin down.  There’s a few separate clusters working with a little overlap.  Last couple of months, they’ve been recruiting, though, and I don’t need to tell you how much of a problem they’d’ve become if they’d actually got themselves a Crocker.”

He really didn’t; Nathan could guess how quickly that would swell their numbers and boost their confidence.  It would have been a disaster, and Vince would have had no choice but to retaliate- the Guard would never have stood for less.

“Duke being here changes that,” Nathan said, thinking quickly, trying to rebuild his mental map to account for the new information.  “It takes Wade out of play.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Duke said, scowling.  “The Guard still wants him gone, and the Rev’s people have to know there’s no way in hell they’ll ever get me to cooperate, so Wade’s still the only shot they have.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Nathan argued.  “Point is, there’s a difference between going after Wade when he’s clueless and alone, and going after _your brother_ while you’re in town.”

“Think you _might_ be overestimating my level of influence here, Nate,” Duke said, shaking his head.  “Pretty sure the only reason the Rev’s people didn’t keep coming at me was because they weren’t smart enough to come up with a plan, and the Guard sure as hell isn’t afraid of me.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Dwight said.  “ _Vince_ might not be afraid of you, but the Guard as a whole?  That’s a different story.  Nathan’s right about that, going after him _now_ , with you in town?  They’ll think a lot harder about it.”

“Why the fuck would they be afraid of me?” Duke asked, shifting in his seat, drawing in on himself- uncomfortable and defensive.  Nathan kind of wished the desk wasn’t between them; he wanted to reach out, to offer some kind of reassurance, but Duke was out of reach.

“Because you don’t play by the rules they’ve been taught,” Dwight replied.  “You’re unpredictable.  You shot Jordan, you killed a few Troubles-”

“ _Two_ ,” Duke snapped, glaring, tense and pale, “and only one of them was even _slightly_ my choice- Audrey made it very clear what she expected, and it was that or let a bunch of innocent people _die_.  I didn’t- there wasn’t a good option, and he was already _dying_.”

“Not saying you were wrong for doing it,” Dwight said, holding up his hands, “or that it was your fault.  Just pointing out facts.  You figured out your Trouble, you _used_ it.  But then you spent your time working with Nathan and Audrey.  You helped them _help_ Troubled people.  Hell, you went up against the Guard directly to protect a Troubled kid, you think that didn’t make waves?  You don’t behave the way you’re supposed to.  You don’t play by the rules they’ve been taught.  None of them know which way you’re going to jump.”  Dwight shrugged.  “But whether or not the Guard is afraid of you isn’t really the point.”

“...No, it wouldn’t be, would it,” Nathan said, catching on- finding the piece that hadn’t fit, that hadn’t quite made sense- and frowning.  “You _had_ a choice, you could have helped Vince put pressure on Wade, try to get him out of town without anybody getting hurt, but instead you put people on him to keep them at a distance.  Why spend those resources _there_ , if you didn’t have a reason to _keep_ Wade in town?”  Duke glanced over at him, a flicker of uncertainty showing- he hadn’t caught on, yet, hadn’t figured it out.  Nathan wasn’t sure he liked that; Duke was usually the first to recognize a power play, Duke was usually quick to read manipulation and malice into a situation, and that he _hadn’t_ suggested a level of trust Nathan hadn’t expected.  “You weren’t ready to send Wade packing because you weren’t sure you might not need a Crocker in _your_ corner.  He was insurance against the Guard.”

“He was insurance against the kind of Trouble no one else could handle,” Dwight replied, voice flat, shoulders tight.  Nathan couldn’t blame him for the sudden shift in tone- Duke had gone from uncomfortable and tense to _furious_ at Nathan’s accusation, hands in white-knuckled fists on the arms of his chair, body canted forward, lips parted in an expression damn near a snarl.  “Don’t look so surprised, Duke,” he continued, and Nathan didn’t think _surprised_ was the right word there, really, “you of all people know that I understand _expediency_ and _acceptable risk_ -”

Duke jerked back in his chair, expression shifting lightning quick from hostility to something that could have been fear before it moved just as quickly into sullen, resentful acceptance, and Nathan definitely didn’t like _that_ at all, wanted to know what the hell Dwight was talking about that could yank Duke out of justified outrage and put him into full retreat.  Dwight sighed at Duke’s response, looked guilty for a split second, and dragged a hand over his face like he was too tired to deal with any of this before he continued.

“Point is, _yes_ , I had reason to want to keep Wade in town.  As of you two coming back, however, that reason is _gone_.    You’re a safer bet on every count, Duke,” Dwight said, and it sounded almost like an apology.  “I know the rules you play by, I know what side you come down on.  And you already know the score.  I don’t _want_ to have to involve Wade, I never did.  I just recognized that it might become necessary, whether or not I wanted to.  You being here means it _won’t_ become necessary- and there’s the fact that you _don’t_ scare most of the Troubled people in town, outside the Guard, and you’re not likely to throw in with the Shepherds.”

A slow, cold sort of anger settled over Nathan’s thoughts, and he knew himself well enough to recognize that indignation on Duke’s behalf- and peripherally, on Wade’s- wasn’t as much of that anger as it _should_ be.  Nor was the slightly more practical outrage at the idea of triggering _that_ Trouble as a failsafe- it was too much of a risk, too much of a _threat_.

But it wasn’t the moral or the practical that was digging into his thoughts.  It was _possessiveness_ that was driving the worst of it.

After all, if Dwight was acknowledging that Duke was a _safer bet_ , he was assuming Duke would cooperate, was assuming that Duke was one of _his_ people to be given instructions he was expected to obey.  It was impossible not to see that as a claim being levied.

And it was irrational, he _knew_ it was irrational, but Nathan had already ceded a great deal to Dwight.  Things that maybe he’d never really wanted, things that he’d proven he couldn’t handle and didn’t deserve, but things that had been _his_ , nonetheless- some of which had been passed to him by his father, some of which he’d _worked_ for.

Nathan didn’t have much left, and he’d be damned if he gave the best of it up without a fight.  Duke didn’t answer to _Dwight_.

“Yeah, that’s all well and good, but me being the _better option_ still doesn’t actually take Wade out of play,” Duke said, before Nathan could give voice to any of the careless, dangerous thoughts he was having, his words sharp and bitter and full of frustration.  “Not until I can convince him to get the hell out of town.  Because maybe you don’t move on him, maybe the Guard doesn’t, but that still leaves the Shepherds looking to bring him on board.”

“So get him out of town,” Dwight said, shrugging.  “As quickly as you can.  Until then?  I’ve still got people on him, and if you think the Guard was unhappy about him _being_ here, imagine how unhappy they’d be about the Shepherds actually making an approach.  They’ll probably hit any potential threats before my teams even see them.  Might as well let Vince do some of the work.”

“Great.  Wonderful.  That’s _entirely helpful advice_ , I would never have thought of that,” Duke said, still sharp.  He shifted in his seat, and Nathan was pretty sure he was having to fight not to stand up and pace- wasn’t sure why he was bothering to resist the urge, honestly.  “Look, just- is there anyone _else_ we need to be aware of?”

“Major players, no,” Dwight said, with a sigh.  “Minor ones...  Not all the Troubled people in town are comfortable with being represented by the Guard.  There are a couple of small groups that have banded together- keep an eye out for each other, pool resources, that kind of thing.  So far none of them are making any real noise, mostly they’re people with families trying to keep out of trouble- the only group we’re keeping a serious eye on is the one Winston Frye’s been organizing, because he’s always been a little unpredictable and at least two of his allies have Troubles that could pose a potential danger.  Still, for the moment, they aren’t doing anything but talking, and they’re talking defense, not offense.”  Dwight paused, his expression taking on a darker edge.

“And the Shepherds aren’t the only anti-Trouble group, though they’re the ones that look the most dangerous.  There’s a handful of businesses that have started refusing service to anyone they know to be Troubled, there’s a handful of community groups that have cropped up designed to allow for ‘safe spaces’ for ‘normal’ people.  Nothing unifying about them besides the general attitude, no clear way to tell when you’ve walked into one until someone says something- unfortunately, I can’t give you much on them, since pretty much everyone in town knows I’m Troubled at this point, I’m not exactly passing under the radar, and it means they’re being pretty cautious around anyone in a uniform.”

“You tried sending in anybody under the radar?” Nathan asked, because _that_ was the kind of problem that couldn’t be allowed to fester.

“Yes.  So far, we haven’t managed any success.  We don’t exactly have a large pool of officers to draw on, here, and I’m pretty sure someone’s passing information.  I don’t think it’s anyone _in_ the department, but you know not all of the Selectmen are... friendly to our side of things.”

“Wonderful.  So, what you’re saying is that you don’t actually _know_ who might be plotting what, just that there might be people plotting things,” Duke said, sarcasm practically dripping off of the words.  “And that you might not be able to trust the people you answer to, but you _also_ might not be able to trust the people who answer to you.  For chrissakes, Dwight, how the hell were you getting _anything_ done before we came back?”

“Sheer bullheaded determination,” Dwight answered, the words painfully dry.  “I wasn’t exaggerating when I said that we needed Nathan back.  I also wasn’t exaggerating when I said I wasn’t sure I could keep holding things together.  Not sure how many times I have to tell you that the situation is _bad_ before that’s gonna sink in for the two of you.”

Duke looked like he was going to say something, before he paused and shook his head.

“Fair point,” he yielded, a note of sympathy slipping into his tone alongside a grudging sort of respect that did nothing to assuage Nathan’s possessive irritation.  “Begs the question, though...  Why’re you still doing this?”

“Someone has to,” Dwight replied, serious.  “If I step down, who do you think is going to end up in charge?  You want to see what happens when Vince is running things, or one of the Shepherds?”

“No,” Nathan said, as Duke winced at the thought.  “No, we... really don’t.”

“That’s why I’m still doing this.  And that is why I _need_ the two of you on board.”  Dwight looked between them, intent and determined, and Duke ducked his head, not quite nodding, but still yielding.  Nathan held out a moment longer, riding out another wave of possessiveness, before he gave a quick jerk of his head- also not quite a nod, but agreement all the same.

“Fine,” he said, the word clipped.  “Just- don’t keep us in the dark.”

“Or, y’know, be honest if you think you have to,” Duke interjected, giving Nathan a quick look, and Nathan could read the _remember, politics?_ clear as day.

“Or that,” he ground out reluctantly.  Duke’s expression shifted, the faintest flicker of approval and gratitude in his almost invisible smile, and Nathan tried to tell himself it was worth backing down for that.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Dwight replied dryly.

“And we appreciate that,” Duke said, flashing a charming, easy smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Uh huh,” Dwight said, clearly not actually buying it, but just as clearly not willing to have _that_ argument.  “We done?”

“Almost,” Duke said, his expression shifting again, taking on a nervous edge.  “Need to run one thing by you.”

“Yeah?” Dwight asked, raising a brow- looking like he was trying not to look surprised, if Nathan had to guess.

“Jennifer hasn’t had the chance to relax and explore the town at all, yet.  You going to have a problem with it if I ask her if she wants to play tourist tomorrow?  Show her around, let her see the parade?”

Dwight clearly hadn’t expected that; he looked perplexed, for a moment, and glanced at Nathan as though Nathan could give him some sort of context for the question.  Nathan shrugged, because he wasn’t actually feeling inclined to be helpful, and he hadn’t really been expecting Duke to ask _permission_ , either.  Didn’t particularly _like_ that he’d asked permission.

“I’m not entirely sure I understand why you’re asking me that,” Dwight said, after a moment, and Duke smiled again, a slightly more genuine expression, a flicker of puckish amusement sneaking in.

“Because A, you’re her boyfriend and you’re technically bigger than me, so if you’re going to be irrationally jealous I’d like to know before you start throwing punches, B, you’re still more likely than I am to know if there’s any kind of risk in wandering around town right now, and C, while I am not technically employed here, you _have_ made it pretty clear that there are rules I’m supposed to be following, and I don’t know whether or not requesting time off in advance is, like, a requirement here.”

“If I were going to take a swing at you out of irrational jealousy, I would have done it yesterday,” Dwight replied, one corner of his mouth quirking up like he was trying, and not quite managing, to suppress a smile.  “And I am disappointed in you if you think I should actually have a say in who she’s friends with.  Though I agree she could pick more reputable friends.  It should be safe enough to go wandering so long as you stay on the main streets, just try not to pick any unnecessary fights, and consider your request for time off approved.  Next time, I expect more than twelve hour’s notice, though.”

“Yeah, you know I’m not actually going to do that, right?” Duke asked, all the more visibly amused.  He’d let himself relax, the tension leaving his posture, a certain easy confidence taking its place- Nathan couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not, couldn’t tell how much of this was Duke genuinely being at his ease around Dwight when they weren’t talking politics, and how much of it was Duke putting on a good show, playing nice and making friends because that was what he did, that was how he operated.  “And I am extremely reputable, seriously, how many people do you know who have _half_ the reputation I have?”

“No harm in trying,” Dwight replied, shrugging, actually smiling, and if Duke was just playing politics, it was obviously working out okay- if he _wasn’t_ , Nathan wasn’t entirely sure how he’d missed the transition from subtle hostility and wary distrust into wary respect and subtle camaraderie.  “And that’s not a defense, Crocker, that’s an admission of guilt.”

“That’s probably a fair statement,” Duke agreed, with a casual, ‘what can you do’ gesture.  “But if that’s decided, I should go see if she’s interested.”

“Don’t forget to talk to Stan.”

“Yeah, trust me, I have never in my life been happier to hear that a police officer has paperwork I need to sign, I’ll check in with Stan.”  Duke levered himself out of his seat, pausing just long enough to give Nathan a questioning glance.  Nathan nodded and tilted his head toward the door, and Duke offered a quick smile before he sauntered out, apparently as unaffected by the earlier slightly hostile nature of the conversation as he had been by the uneasy tension of the day.

Nathan wished Duke was a slightly less skillful liar; it was harder than it should be to keep track of what Duke was actually thinking.

“You look like you still have a few things to say,” Dwight said, when the door had closed in Duke’s wake.  “Do we have a problem, here?”

“No,” Nathan said, and he wished he were a slightly _more_ skillful liar; he’d always had the control for it, but never the grace.  “No problem.”

“Good,” Dwight replied, and it wasn’t an acknowledgement so much as a warning.  He paused, and his expression softened, just slightly.  “You know they’ll be fine, right?”

The words caught Nathan by surprise, but he latched onto them, took the out he’d been offered.

“Just don’t like it much.  Thought _home_ would be pretty safe too, saw how that turned out.”  Because that was easier to admit than the frustration, the possessiveness, the strangling urge to tell Dwight to _back the fuck off_.  It was easier to cop to the overwhelming anxiety that Dwight had already _seen_.

“Crocker can take care of himself, you know that,” Dwight said, before he gave a faint, wry smile.  “And there’s going to be a larger than usual amount of police activity tomorrow- with the number of people who usually turn out, I didn’t think it was a good idea to assume everything would go smoothly.  I doubled the shifts up, you’ll probably be able to get eyes on him any time you want to check in.”

“...So long as they stick to the main streets,” Nathan said, and he actually laughed, short and rueful.

“Exactly,” Dwight replied.  “I do try to be thorough.”  Dwight pushed away from the wall, and motioned toward the door.  “I have work to do.”

“Right.  ...Thanks.”

“I’m on your side, here, Nathan.  Try to remember that.”  Dwight left, and Nathan leaned forward in his chair, propping himself up on his elbows, wishing he could actually just _feel_ the headache he knew he had.

He was pretty sure it would at least have been a distraction from the pressure of his thoughts.

But sitting around dwelling wasn’t helping anything, and he was pretty sure Dwight wasn’t going to call him on it if he ducked out a few minutes early.  He stood up, put his desk in order, and went to find Duke.


End file.
